Empire Falls
by Lizzy Rebel
Summary: [SH:C, AnaKur] The year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov [complete]
1. House of Ipatiev

**Disclaimer:** _pft_.

**Teaser:** Anastasia Romanov disappears from the history books

**Author's Notes:** I'm back in the Shadow Hearts fandom. Though it isn't Nicolai I'm stalking this time. (hmm, maybe later). It's Anastasia. 'Cause, you know, I only played SH:C because I heard Anastasia Romanov was a playable character. Of course, I enjoyed the game but if it weren't for Anastasia I wouldn't have touched it! XD She's my favorite historical figure. Right in front of Theodore Roosevelt… but _that's_ another story.

Oh yeah. This is a historically accurate fanfiction (kinda). So historical that I have _historical_ notes at the bottom. Read and be amazed at my obsession!

Or, you know, you could just trust me.

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**/Empire** **Falls/**

_/Chapter One: House of Ipatiev/  
_"**As the red flag rose I bid Russia** **goodbye  
****It was simply a case of Lenin or I  
****And** **it** **all** **seems** **do** **distant** **it** **all** **seems** **so** **far  
****From those glorious days hanging out with the Czar"  
**-"Shootin' with Rasputin", Her Six Daughters

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The Ipatiev House was nestled comfortably in Ekaterinburg, Russia. Ekaterinburg itself was a nicely situated town, miles away from the havoc of Petrograd but not so far that it was impossible to reach the town without a long journey.

Ekaterinburg was not the center of commerce. It held neither the vitality nor beauty of Petrograd or Moscow but it was a warm place, filled with friendly families and welcoming smiles.

Of course, Ekaterinburg was rumored to have grown in its activities, but these rumored activity were not to be bragged of. Most of the residents of moderately sized Ekaterinburg were, in fact, determined to ignore all signs of the Bolshevik touch, content to tell themselves it was merely their imagination.

For Russia was still a monarchy—albeit, a monarchy without a monarch—and the Bolsheviks were revolutionaries and were therefore illegal. Yes, said group had a large amount of both support and power in Russia, but currently they were still radicals and reformists and thus best avoided.

And so, to everyone who was asked, Ekaterinburg was a quiet, peaceful town with nothing interesting going on in it.

But there was no denying the odd occurrences that had begun at the Ipatiev House. The owner of the house, the merchant Ipatiev, was a pleasant enough man though he never stayed long enough in Ekaterinburg to make friends. Most remembered that he was getting up in age and had a kind smile. That was it, nothing out of the ordinary.

Even the house was nothing amazing or splendid. It was a serviceable house, with two floors and a semi-basement, no bigger than the house beside it. It was surrounded on either side by two wooden palisades that—if one remembered correctly—hadn't been there a year ago. But times were always changing and cautious was especially important in these trying times in Russia.

Ipatiev himself was out, which shouldn't have surprised anyone to learn of the fact. But for some odd reason, it did. Ipatiev had seemingly disappeared one night after returning home from one of his long treks across Russia. No one suspected he had died—what could be gained from harming an aging man?—but there were whispers surrounding what exactly was going on in the Ipatiev House while it's master was currently… indisposed with some matter.

After all, it was impossible to forget that Tsar Nicholas Aleksandrovich Romanov had only recently abdicated his crown—and about time, too, if you asked the right people—under the demands of the Bolshevik radicals.

Rumors claim that after the Romanov family had been taken from their entrapment in the Alexander Palace and after their time in Siberia they had been brought back into the country, though for what purpose no one was really sure.

And some claimed that the reason old Ipatiev had evacuated from his house so suddenly was because the Romanovs were now trapped inside.

Yet, despite this—or rather, because of it—most of the villagers stayed as far away from Ipatiev House as they could. None of them even dared to hope for a glance of the royal couple, their handsome son, or their lovely daughters.

No one wanted the wrath of the Bolsheviks brought down upon them.

However, if anyone had cared to look into the window just above the semi-basement they would have had their questions answered.

Anastasia Romanov had always been a striking girl, even at her tender age of seventeen she held the regal grace of the Romanov house. All the female Romanovs did. But perhaps it was her long coils of auburn hair and incredible jade eyes, matched with her sharp smiles and classical features, that made her stand out.

The youngest Grand Duchess was looking out the window with an expression of boredom on her face. In fact, her young, plump lips parted with a decidedly long sigh as she surveyed the land spread out before her window.

It was summer in Russia and youths such as the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov should have been outside enjoying the summer air and blazing sun. As it was, most youths were.

But Anastasia was not among them. She had been confined to the Ipatiev House for nearly two months and as the middle of July fell upon her she was well aware of her confinement and its restrictions.

There was little she could do about it, unfortunately. She was old enough to understand that her enemies now held her life—and the life of her entire family—in the palms of their hands. She understood very well that her health depended on both her complicity with the Bolsheviks and their whims.

Still, she yearned for the freedom of being outside.

It was almost impossible for her to convince herself that no more than a year or so ago she had been exploring the world with the wide-eyed fascination of a young girl. She had seen the rivers of Egypt and the wild plains of Scotland and the ancient, powerful ruins of Rome and the hallowed halls of Athens before returning to her beloved homeland of Russia.

And, even more amazingly so, less then three years ago Anastasia had traversed to Japan and uncovered the underlying goals of the Great War. She was one of the few who knew what had truly undermined the World War. Anastasia knew who had been the real puppet master behind the war to end all wars.

No one would believe her, of course, and Anastasia had no intentions of telling them. She was well aware of how farfetched the truth was. Time-traveling, mystic gods, power struggles between men and otherworldly beginnings. Sometimes, upon reviewing, it almost seemed unreal to her.

Except, Anastasia had _lived_ it.

She had stood in front of a man who looked to rearrange the world to his liking, she had fought more than one man who had been consumed by a god and his own lust for power, and she had stood on the plains of immortality with the dread inside her that whispered she could never return to what she knew.

In the Plains of Time, locked deep within the thick walls of the Asuka Stone Platform in Japan, she had been assured that she would not be able to return to the time she had known. That once her boots had crunched upon the soil where Time itself bowed to the whims of humanity, she would never go back to where she had came. She would not be allowed the present.

And she had so desperately wanted to. To go back to her family and the time she knew. To the places that had become familiar and important to her. To be with her friends who had come to mean the world to her.

Still, Anastasia Romanov had not been brought back to the time she yearned for. Instead, Time had thrown her a week into the future. But a week, so insignificant in the great vastness of Time, had hardly seemed to matter to her.

A girl young of fourteen, she found herself free from a great dread that weighed upon her shoulders and she had found herself driven to see the world by a strong wanderlust and her feet had carried her across Asia, and the beginnings of Africa, and then Europe until she found herself content to be back home.

But there was a bitterness to Anastasia's freedom. Of all the friends she had made on her journey to save the world from chaos and madness, only one stayed with her. The rest has disappeared from the pages of history, gone to whatever world they had conjured up as their happiest.

Perhaps she was a little bitter that the world and the time she loved so much—despite it's flaws and gaps—would not be enough for the people who had come to be a second family to her.

Gepetto—the old man with his intriguing doll—had likely gone back to a time where his family in its entirety was alive. He mentioned a daughter to her once—after they had escaped the twists of Dollmaker's House—and she understood enough that the girl had died and the sickness that had taken her haunted Gepetto like nothing else did.

It was hard for her to understand why Lucia had not chosen to come back to their world. She, amongst the members of their ragtag group, had seemed the brightest and happiest. Why wouldn't she come back to the time where she had a woman who was as good as her mother and a man who desperately loved her? And yet there was no sign of Lucia upon Anastasia's stop in Florence and the old woman who loved her had received no letter from neither Lucia nor her fiancé.

Karin's disappearance from time was understandable, even if she was sorely missed. The man she loved couldn't ever truly be hers and her family lay in shambles and wreck. The army she had fought so valiantly for had become her enemy and to return to her country would to be to return to shame and disgrace as well as to betray her friends, who stood on opposing sides. When there was no sign of Karin, Anastasia simply prayed that she found happiness.

Blanca was a different matter. It seemed all likely to Anastasia where Blanca would be, so she hadn't looked. After all, there had been talk of young girl-child Blanca had trotted after before the mess with Sapientes Glaudio had occurred and Blanca had been fond of the little Japanese girl upon the moment they met. Anastasia had considered the fact that Blanca was likely to have returned to the point in time where she herself had returned to, but figured the wolf would best like to be left alone in his new home.

Joachim was perhaps the bitterest separation she had felt. She had grown so fond of him, though only the Lord knew why. It was likely something in the way his big arms had cradled her upon their first escape from the Winter Palace after Rasputin had worked his evil magick and turned Anastasia's own mother against her. Anastasia had felt safe with Joachim, much in the way she felt safe with her father, and she had latched on to him. And it was a bitter realization that whatever time Joachim wanted to be in, it wasn't with _her_.

Yuri was impossible to figure out. Anastasia figured he had chosen some time where his lover, Alice, was still alive and well. But the Holy Mistletoe curse that had infested his breast might have indeed killed him before such a time could be reached. Or worse yet his memories could have been erased via the holy curse and he could have been brought back to any time in history when his mind could not grapple with a fond memory to latch on to and pray for.

Of all her friends, Anastasia wondered of Yuri the most.

Absently, drawn away from her thoughts, Anastasia twirled the lovely Golden Angel in her palms. A gift from a man she no longer had the ability to see, the Faberge egg gave her both a sense of strength and a peace of mind that she found herself desperately needing more and more as time grew. The way her fingers traced the intricate designs on its golden surface sent a calm shiver up her spine that had Anastasia relaxing in her chair.

But, even as her body relaxed, her mind continued to spiral. The room she was located in had been her host for two months and its bland, white walls had begun to sting her eyes.

Inside her heart she yearned for those years ago when she had stood with her friends and traveled the world. Yes, it had been dangerous and the stake of the very world had been at hand, but it had been such fun. Meeting new people and visiting new landscapes and falling giddily in love…

At her thoughts, Anastasia worked down her flush.

Kurando Inugami had been the one to return to the time Anastasia had desired with her. He had as much reason to return as she did. He still had a teacher he longed to serve, a mother who loved him, and a village who would one day look to him as its leader. Of all the members in the group, it was Kurando who had as much reason as her to return.

She remembered the way they had clung to each, awash in a golden glow, more brilliant than the shine of her Egg, lifted high above the desolate landscape before them. She had held onto him so tightly, halfway afraid and halfway giddy with happiness to be held. The surprise had come in the strong way Kurando had gripped her. The silent, soft-spoken Samurai who had never given her any special attention had held onto her as if his very life depended on it and did not release her even after they had found themselves safely outside the Forest of the Wind.

There had been such tenderness in his red, inherited eyes when he had gazed down upon her, finding them both alive and unharmed, that it made her body heat to think of it.

It was Kurando who had accompanied her on her journey across the world. She had stayed for a week or two in his village before finding herself yearning to see the world everyone had fought so desperately to save. And though surely he had things he had to do—finish his lessons, protect his Village, ease the burden of Leader from his mother—he had chosen to go on her year tour of the world.

And in that tour year, Anastasia's hard case of puppy love had transformed into something more lasting, and more mature. And she hadn't even realized it until long after it had found its place inside her heart.

But even the journey Anastasia and Kurando had taken together—learning of life and love and happiness—had been marred by a shadow. As the war drew to a stalemate, and then a close, countries turned their eyes inward and Russia found herself wanting.

There were whispers of revolution everywhere in Europe. The Bolsheviks gained power in a frightening way and Tsar Nicholas II was slowly losing his grip over Russia.

Kurando had done his best to shy Anastasia away from the whispers, but she was never unaware of them. She had been the first one to speak of them, years before. She had understood that the people of Russia starved. Starved for food and warmth and revenge and freedom. And she knew Romanov blood would offer all those things.

And she had told Kurando on the early start of 1916 that she had to return to Russia, to stand with her family as the Grand Duchess Anastasia. No matter how much she enjoyed her travels, her place was with her family.

She had expected the stony samurai and herself to part ways then. He to go back to Japan and she to Russia, with the promise of letter exchanging, of course. But Kurando had merely stated he would take her to Russia and deliver her into the welcoming arms of her family.

But he hadn't merely taken her to Russia, he had stayed with her. Stayed through the speculative glances of her sisters—and then the shocked laughter when they learned that it was Kurando Anastasia had seen the world with, and without a chaperone—and had handled the tension between himself and Anastasia's father until Kurando had earned Nicholas's trust. Alexei had fallen in deep hero-worship with Kurando and the samurai had earned Anastasia's mother's respect with his polite mannerism.

For close to three months Kurando had stayed with Anastasia in Petrograd, often acting out the part of cool bodyguard. And three months were more than she had expected. Which was why she did not cling when he was called back to Japan.

He had gone because that was his duty and place, but Kurando had promised to visit her. And surely he would have, but Japan and Russia were eons away from each other and Russia's state didn't allow much travel and safety.

And when the February Revolution occurred and her father was forced to withdraw from his throne and they were moved to the Alexander Palace, Anastasia realized it would be too dangerous for Kurando to come back and had repeatedly told him through her letters that it was best if he stayed away from Russia.

But she missed him so terribly, and so completely, that Anastasia nearly wept from it. And yet the level on which her feelings for Kurando resided made the ache of missing him somewhat bearable.

"I know who you're thinking about," a light, airy voice said from a distance.

Thus, Anastasia was brought from her recollections with a jolt. She blinked her emerald eyes and glanced at the owner of the dreamlike voice.

Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna Romanov was the closet thing to a saint that the Romanov family could claim to have. Her guileless blue eyes radiated poise and perfection, matched by a wavy mane of silky brown hair.

Despite Maria's aptitude for being the perfect daughter there was a witty underlying look in her eyes and it came out in the way she teased her sisters, so subtly that the sting of it would bother them for days before they realized what had occurred.

But Maria had been so quiet these days Anastasia didn't mind the teasing.

"You mean that charming samurai fellow?" chimed in another of Anastasia's sister. The second eldest of the Romanov daughters.

Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanov—who bore the title Grand Duchess prouder than any of her sisters—turned her thoughtful gray eyes away from the window she had been staring out of to smile at her youngest sister. Her hair matched the color of Anastasia's but it gave Tatiana the appearance of a stately lady, heightening her slender and long body. She had been a favorite of both her mother and the boys in Russia since she had been young.

Their words had the affect they wanted on Anastasia. She felt her cheeks heat up and she instinctively stuck her tongue out at her sisters, secretly pleased that they were still young enough to enjoy such foolishness.

And it brought their minds away from the difficult subject at hand.

Maria lowered the book she had been reading onto her lap and grinned at her sister. "If a handsome man like Lord Inugami was chasing after me, 'Natsya, I sure wouldn't be complaining."

"Assuredly," Tatiana said with a sniff of her nose, her pretty eyes twinkling. "We all know that Maria wants herself twenty children and a nice, plump Russian soldier to care for."

Together they laughed but to Anastasia's ears it sounded hollow and weak. Especially when she could so vividly remember the good laughs they had had together, sitting on Maria or Tatiana's bed and gossiping.

But those days were long gone.

"Girls do not tease your sister."

The laughter stopped as the three of them turned to face their mother, Queen Alexandra Fyodorovna Romanov, as she glanced up at them through the blue eyes she had given Maria. The hair that was pulled into a bun on top of her regal head was the same color that blessed Anastasia and Tatiana, a gift she had given them from birth.

Beside her was Anastasia's eldest sister, Olga Nikolaevna Romanov, her blue eyes—though not blue like her mother's, but like her father's—narrowed with steady concentration and the chestnut-blonde hair secured in a tight bun at the base of her neck gave her a deeply scholarly look. Olga had always been the most studious of the Romanov women and also the most mature.

Even so, it was always Tatiana who became the leader, driven forth by her vigor and energy. But Olga didn't mind. When the time came, it was to her they turned to for advice and support.

Both women were concerned only with their task. Five gowns were laid out before them on the small table that divided mother and daughter. Two were already glittered with encrusted royal jewel—everything from diamonds to emeralds to sapphires—and Olga, being the best sewer of the household, was nearly done with the gown laid out before her. Alexandra had passed the halfway mark, but was lagging behind her daughter.

"We weren't teasing, Mama," Tatiana was quick to protest, catching Maria's eyes and speaking in the silent way of sisters.

"Oh no. We were simply being envious of our dear _shvibzik_, weren't we?" Maria agreed, her voice carrying her sweet, well-natured tone even as underneath it all she was laughing at her own cleverness.

"Envious is too soft a word!" Anastasia proclaimed, pointing at her two sisters. "They're jealous of me because I've found a man before they have!"

"If only I were Olga," Tatiana mourned softly, glancing at her older sister. "I would have married that handsome Prince of Wales!"

"He was a bore," Olga said casually as she pulled her needle once more through the long gown that Tatiana claimed as her own.

"I favored the match," Alexandra pointed out as she slid her needle into the soft silk gown that, if she had been going to a party, Maria would have worn.

"Mama, you favored Prince Carol of Romania as well, remember?" Olga said with her courtesan voice alight with a smile. And still her concentration was never broken.

Together, Anastasia, Tatiana, and Maria cried, "Ew!"

"Girls," Alexandra warned and the room fell silent once more. Maria turned back to her book and Tatiana resumed her staring. Olga and Alexandra cared little for small talk and were content with the silence.

Anastasia was not. She felt fidgety, her feet itching to do something. She yearned to be outside, but the Bolsheviks had forbid it.

_Papa and Alexei can go out,_ she thought darkly, feeling a jealousy that she had grown accustomed to during their months-long stay in the Ipatiev House. Her brother, being the youngest of the Romanov children at thirteen, hadn't been able to handle sitting in a quiet room all day long and Anastasia's father—likely feeling the same way—managed to gain the right to take Alexei on walks around the Ipatiev House's backyard and garden.

But the women were to stay indoors.

She had pouted over it and kicked and complained in a proper manner befitting a princess, but it had done little to change her current situation and every day she found herself being drawn into the bland, off-white room to watch everyone around her mourn as if they were already dead.

Sometimes, Anastasia yearned to be a man. She would lay in bed and think wistfully that if she had been born to her parents as a boy-child things would be better in Russia. Never mind that even as boy she could do little in a child body.

Things around her had grown so out of control and Anastasia felt as if her whole world was teetering on a brink that spiraled down into darkness. She grappled uselessly to hold onto something, and found herself groping the air and falling headlong into the darkest parts of her nightmares.

With the feeling of loathing ripe in her veins, the Russian princess found herself up on her feet and pacing the room. She longed for the days when she was free to come and go as she pleased. Days when she imagined herself fighting bravely for Mother Russia and bringing justice not only to her beloved homeland but to the world.

But she knew, as well as everyone who happened to live around her, that those days had ceased long ago.

"Anastasia," Alexandra warned lightly when the sounds of Anastasia's footfalls on the carpet grew heavy. "Peace."

"Mother," Anastasia retorted and stopped her tirade, sliding closer to her dear mother, pressing her slender palms onto the woman's bony shoulders. "Why are you sewing diamonds into our gowns?"

Alexandra drew one of her own slim fingers across the jewel, nearly unnoticeable in the frills of the dress's undergarments and thread that had been used to keep it locked tight against the fabric.

"When the times comes, _shvibzik_, we will use these jewel to buy our freedom," Alexandra offered simply. "For now we must clutch them close to us and protect them from the Bolsheviks."

Under her breath, Tatiana uttered something unkind concerning the Bolsheviks.

"Tatiana!" Maria chastised lightly, though not nearly wholeheartedly since it was likely she shared a similar opinion.

For her part, Anastasia stared at her mother, moved by the sheer determination that underlined this regal woman. For two years they had lived in the shadow of Revolution, moving from place to place, with their lives hanging on the whim of an unstable government, but Her Highness Alexandra Romanov did not lose hope. She and her family would escape and she would thus hear no more talk of death and worry.

Fervently, Anastasia wished she shared the same feelings, but there was a deep dread inside her marrow that she could not ignore.

"Oh, Mama," Anastasia whispered and buried her nose into Alexandra's neck, fighting an overwhelming sense of fear.

But the fear was broken soon after.

"Sister!"

In slid the Tsesarevich Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov, his sunny smile a match for his nearly blonde hair, offset by only the slightest red. His cheeks were slightly pink from a rough wind and his blue eyes spoke of brighter days in the Winter Palace. His slim body was perhaps a bit too slender for a young boy of thirteen, but Anastasia often noted that none of their bodies fared well since their father's abdicated of the throne.

"Alyosha," she called him affectionately, wrapping her arms around his thin shoulders and holding him tight to her. "You have news for me?"

There was something wonderful in the way his boy-body held Anastasia's so tightly. She felt her purpose upon holding Alexei to her. Anastasia might shake and quiver with fear, but Alexei's merry, carefree smile reminded her that she would fight for him and for all that his eyes beheld in his future.

She loved her sisters dearly. They were more than mere sisters. They were her blood-bonds. The people whom she clung to when the nights were dark and long and the eyes of those she had seen and killed haunted her. Maria soothed, Tatiana entertained, and Olga maternally took care of her.

But Alexei was everything Anastasia fought to protect. In his eyes Anastasia withdrew hope and brightness, and all the things that she had thought once diminished from her life. She was closest to Alexei of all her siblings and she felt that transcending mother-to-cub feeling that was primitive and inherited in every woman.

"Letter for you," Alexei said cheerily as he withdrew, smiling up into her face with casual grace of a boy-prince. "From Kurando!"

The smile that worked across Anastasia's lips matched her brother's and, for only moment, she was just as young and fanciful as he, unaware of the dark shadow looming above her head, haunting all pleasant endeavors she attempted to achieve despite everything that daunted her.

Alexei worshipped Kurando much in the same way he had found himself chasing after Gerard the merchant when Anastasia had stood beside her friends once upon a time. It was the cool grace that Kurando exuded that captivated Alexei—while it was his deep kindness and soft smile that held Anastasia—and his stay in the Winter Palace had been Alexei's fondest memories. Chasing after the samurai, begging for sword practice, and interrupting whatever time with Kurando Anastasia had managed to procure for only herself were the flashes that kept him laughing for hours.

"It was redirected from the Alexander Palace. It's nearly a month old."

Unlike his son, Tsar Nicholas Nikolaevich Romanov did not slide in. He walked stiffly with military decorum and a stiff upper lip. His regal posture made up for his boyish features, which often found itself hidden underneath a dark beard. His blue eyes reflected at Anastasia with slight humor. Humor that had been dulled in a series of two years. War and Revolution had forced a normally friendly man to fall back on hard reserve and a weary tiredness.

"It doesn't matter!" Alexei proclaimed with merry childishness. He grinned at Anastasia. "Open it! Open it!"

"You best," Nicholas agreed.

Without further encouragement, Anastasia tore into the letter, missing the sigh Nicholas released upon seeing her glee with a letter from the boy.

Whatever qualms he had for Kurando were merely the tight worry a father had over the attention his daughter received. He had been against both of Olga's arranged marriage for that fact as well. Nicholas had come to understand that Kurando was nothing but honorable and he himself had witnessed the protectiveness in which Kurando handled himself around Anastasia.

The Tsar could respect and admire that. The father could not.

"It's so romantic," Tatiana sighed and Maria twittered happily. Olga merely rolled her eyes at her sister's antics, but her eyes were drawn away from their task at hand to watch Anastasia read the letter.

"Suppose he's written a long ode to your beauty, 'Natsya?" Maria asked giddily, nearly jumping from her seat. "What beauty there is, anyway."

Her answer was a rude gesture from Anastasia, which was missed by both her parents. Of course, she knew that Kurando's letter were formal to the point of nearly being written in stone. Kurando would never ink down his emotions.

But she had learned over a year of letter exchanging to read Kurando's words and take them for their hidden meaning. Kurando's emotions were, indeed, there but in such a subtle way one could miss them entirely.

There was no mistaking these words, however.

"What is it?" Olga demanded when a frown worked its way across Anastasia's lips. "'Natsya?"

Beneath her fingers were only two words, written in clear Russian letters, albeit a bit incorrectly.

_I'm coming.

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_

**Historical Facts**

The **Bolsheviks** was the name for the communists group that came into power following WWI. Their initial leader was Lenin, who became the Dictator of Russia following the end of the Russian Revolution, and was later headed by Stalin. Bolsheviks have a deep history and a very complex back-story that I'm not going into. XD

**Ipatiev House** was the real name where the Romanov family was held just before their execution. There are many ways to spell Ekaterinburg, with Y and an I, but this was the most common one. There aren't many historical notes on whether or not the residences of Ekaterinburg knew if the Romanovs were being held at Ipatiev House, but there were certainly speculations.

The **February Revolution **(1917) was the first major break-out of the Russian Revolution. Angry mobs of citizens stormed Petrograd and rioted in the streets. The riots and the Revolution was caused by a lack of strong leadership in the absence of the Tsar. Also, many Russians were not pleased to have Alexandra as their figurehead in Nicholas's absence as Alexandra was a German. Nicholas hurried home upon hearing the news and was advised to abdicate his throne. Nicholas did so, but also for Alexei, who many believed would become the Tsar afterwards. The Russian people had also wanted Olga to act as Regent for Alexei.

Upon the Tsar's abdication of his throne, the royal family was moved to the **Alexander** **Palace**, fifteen miles outside of Petrograd, for their safety. When the Revolution became even more violent, the royal family was sent to **Siberia** by the current ruling government. When the Bolsheviks seized a strong grip in the government they had the royal family brought back to the **Ipatiev House** for Ekaterinburg was a Bolshevik headquarters.

Both the names **Natsya** and **shvibzik** were affection nicknames used by the royal family for Anastasia. _Shvibzik_ is a Russian word that virtually means 'trouble-maker' which was a perfect nickname for Anastasia, who had been considered the trickster of the family. **Alyosha** was an affection nickname for Alexei.

**Anastasia** was predicted to be the Tsar and Alexandra's first **male child** but, obviously, they were given the Grand Duchess Anastasia instead. Because Anastasia turned out to be female and not male it was predicted that she would leave an interesting mark in history as well as leave an unique life.

Alexandra did indeed sew the **Romanov Jewels** into the bodices of her and her daughters' gowns sometime during their captivity.

There was talk of Olga's engagement to either the **Prince of Wales** or **Prince Charles of Romania** but Olga didn't like Charles at all and then all talk and negations were put on hold during the onset of the war.

The **Romanov Females**, while not shown at all in _Shadow Hearts: Covenant_, should be noted that they are nothing like they are hinted at in the game. Each girl was an individual and witty. Maria, the innocent, Olga, the motherly figure, and Tatiana, the beauty. Each was just as brave as Anastasia but that was likely overly looked in SH:C because they didn't want to go into three other strong women.

Boy, that's it. But that's the most historical facts that'll ever be in a single chapter. I think…

_Next Chapter:_meanwhile, back in Japan…


	2. Revolution's Call

**Disclaimer:** if I owned _Shadow Hearts: Covenant_ there would be many instants where Nicolai found himself with a shirt…

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov

**Author's Note:** eh. Late. As usual. I'm used to it. Plus, you know, my state is crazy so we have school. Right now. This is my mad face. And they're not fun classes. They're Senior-this'll-make-you-look-good-for-college classes. And those are never found.

Oh yeah, stop the murder of baby seals! Anyone interested in helping our cause to stop the murder of helpless baby seals, please contact me via PM!

I'm on the soap box and you _can't_ tear me down!

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_/Chapter Two: Revolution's Call/  
_"**I** **said** **one** **and** **one** **is** **true  
****The Bolshevik is rising too  
****He looks twice and said I can identify this man  
****And** **the** **Czarina** **shook** **her** **head"  
**-"The Czarina Shook Her Head", Rick Masters

* * *

Saki Inugami would never admit willingly—perhaps even on the threat of death—that she was filled with worry and anxiety. She preferred her mystique of a careless widow living in a hidden village with mystic powers to peek into the future.

But, indeed, she was a woman who knew what it was to worry more than anyone.

Her life, it seemed, had been full of worry. And grief. Worry over her brother as he went overseas, and then the grief of losing him. Losing her husband and feeling as if she had lost her nephew and her sister-in-law as well.

And, of course, the all too real fear of losing her son plagued Saki daily.

With a sort of giddy fear, she remembered the day her son—her brave, beautiful boy who reminded her of his father more and more everyday—said that they would go to the Asuka Stone Platform to fight for the world in which they lived.

She had let him go, of course. She understood the importance of the battle he strove to fight. As a leader she understood the necessary risks that had to be taken to protect what she loved. As a mother, she merely wanted to clasp her boy to her bosom and beg him to stay safe and warm beside her.

As she was a leader first and foremost, though, she had thus taken a step back, bit her lip, and remained silent as her son bid her goodbye one last time.

Every day was battle to get up. She donned her dark-hued kimono and took the long journey to Sukune Fountain, bending over the rocks and peering into its mystical liquid, praying for a glimpse—all she asked was for a glimpse—on the status of her son and his friends.

The Asuka Stone Platform forbid it of her. It locked itself together and even the awesome power of the Fountain could not penetrate it and find her son. All Saki had been able to do was sit beside the Fountain for hours on end and pray constantly for a break in the barrier, all the while her mind haunting her with images of a happier time.

For a week, this ritual continued. And Saki's heart had never felt heavier in her bosom. She was a survivor, all those born from the Hyuga blood were, but the loss of her son—she knew—would break her and she would never again be whole.

It was not to say that Saki did not worry for those her dear son had traveled with. Yuri was her nephew and seeing him alive had brought her a joy she acquainted only with her brother. And Yuri's companions had made her world a little brighter as well, though there had hardly been time for her to come to know them. Gepetto, with his wise but subtle ways, Lucia, whose smile reminded Saki of herself when she had been much younger, Joachim, a lively young man Saki might have considered giving chase to had she been younger, and Blanca, who seemed to know more than anyone else in his deeply dark eyes.

Karin was never someone Saki had given worry to. Of all those who went to face Kato that day, it was Karin Saki knew would survive. Karin's destiny was something greater than anyone suspected and Saki had played a hand in it.

Years ago, as Anne Hyuga pressed a small picture of herself and her family, into Saki's hand, the younger woman hadn't understood Anne's message—"_Give this back to me next time you see me"_—but when Karin's eyes had fluttered across the floor of her home to meet Saki's, she had known then.

So worry for Karin Koenig never crossed Saki's mind.

If she worried for anyone as much as she worried for her son, it was perhaps the tiny woman-child Saki already accepted as her own.

Anastasia Romanov had been a welcomed presence in both Saki and Kurando's life—though, likely, Kurando was not aware of it. Saki had recognized the childish crush in Anastasia's eyes upon her awakening from Asteroth's clutches and had sensed that, with time and care, it would grow into something more.

Of course, Saki had known Kurando was oblivious to such facts. She also knew—albeit reluctantly—that she was old enough to want grandchildren and she had decided that she would have to take the necessary steps to procure, for her son, a wife.

And, of course, Anastasia had dropped right into her lap. Saki had decided, upon meeting the Romanov princess, that the young woman was a perfect match for her Kurando. Her young son tended to be too serious and solemn in most matters and she knew—especially taking into account the fact that Kurando's adulthood would be a struggle to control the demons inside him—that it would take someone of Anastasia's vigor and liveliness to keep Kurando from slipping down into the very depths of depression.

In her mind, Anastasia had been her daughter the moment she had given the young princess the autumn kimono.

It only made sense that when she bent down to peer into the Fountain to glimpse the well-being of her son, she looked for the well-being of her future daughter-in-law as well.

But in the crystalline pools of the Sukune Fountain she had garnered no glance of her son or the Russian princess. And every evening, Saki had returned to her home exhausted from peering into a smooth and ageless liquid that offered no hope to her.

A week later, Saki started her morning ritual of walking to the Fountain when, suddenly, she found herself standing before her son and the young girl he clasped tightly in his arms.

For a moment Saki had not been able to move, so overcome was she in the sheer joy of seeing her son and the young woman she named as her own once more where she felt they belonged.

And then the moment of shocked silence had been broken. Kurando had called out to her, his voice just a bit hoarse and weary, but still carrying the lit she recognized as her son's.

Without another word she embraced them, kissing both Kurando and Anastasia's hair and drowning in the feeling of holding them in her arms once more. Until that moment she had not realized how close she had been to giving up on them.

For two glorious weeks Saki had selfishly kept Kurando and Anastasia to herself, but she knew Anastasia longed to see the world without fear weighing her down and Kurando deserved to see some of it too before he was tangled up in caring for the village.

So when Anastasia had expressed a desire to see the world, Saki had suggested Kurando go with her as a bodyguard. Kurando had seemed to be waiting for the suggestion because he went without farther protests.

Their parting had not been as difficult this time, for Saki was able to watch them now through the Fountain. Their adventures were recorded deeply in her own heart—for she herself was an adventurer—and she had sighed over their deepening affection for one another.

Of course, she had been secretly pleased that Kurando had remained a gentleman throughout it all.

But when at last Kurando and Anastasia parted—called away by their separate duties—Saki had worried. She did not need to peer into Sukune Fountain to know that both Anastasia and her family were in grave danger, with Russia growing more and more unsettled by the day.

Saki had attempted to pester Kurando into going to Russia once more—if only to protect Anastasia—and the boy surely would have, but each letter he sent Anastasia requesting her permission to visit had been returned with a simple: _please do not_.

With a hint of frustration marring his face, Kurando had obeyed Anastasia's wishes.

Now rumors had emerged that the Romanovs had been moved from their house arrest in the Alexander Palace to a holding in Siberia and both Saki and Kurando understood its implications. If the government had seen to move the royal family it was because they were in grave danger.

It was the reason that Saki now stood before the waterfall in Sukune Fountain, her feet bare as they moved gracefully across the damp rock. The magick was already heavy in the atmosphere as her embroidered fan clicked once against her thigh.

_"Romanovs… Anastasia… my darling Anastasia…"_

Out from the blue rose the image but it was for Saki's dark eyes only.

_The dark room… a basement, musky and damp from a previous rain. The scent of chrome and gunpowder. And the inhuman screams of pain. Young women's screams, men's screams, a woman crying out for her son._

_"Lord, save us!" a woman screams. "Non nobis, Domine!"_

_A loud chorus of prayers. "Ave, Ave Marie!"_

_And then thicker voices, powerful voices. "For Russia! For Mother Russia!"_

_And the deafening screams are silenced…_

A howl tore from Saki's throat as she broke the image but the sound of their shrieks still remained in her mind, reverberating off her skull. And instantly she knew that she had to inform Kurando. The game had changed.

The Romanovs were in Russia once more and that could only mean danger.

Before she knew what she was doing, her feet were taking her from Sukune Fountain and right to the Inugami house. Kurando was there, she knew, trying to subtly ease the duties of Village leader off her shoulders.

"Kurando!" Saki cried, trying at the same time to drown out the shouts that still resonating in her cranium. "Kurando!"

"Mother?"

The young man in question came down the stairs to meet her, his dark hair drawn over his handsome, youthful face, covering his haunting red eyes. His wiry body always seemed posed and collected but Saki knew—just as she knew his father did as well—that underneath the cool exterior was a man taut and yearning for action, to defend those he claimed as his own.

"You must collect Anastasia and her family from Russia immediately!" Saki cried, curling her hands over the smooth fabric of the long sleeves of Kurando's white shirt.

"Mother, Anastasia doesn't wish me to come to Russia," Kurando pointed out, his face darkening briefly before controlling the rage. "Beside, you and I know that she is no longer in Russia. She's been moved to Siberia."

"No." Saki's hands slid from Kurando's arms and bunched at her sides. "They've been brought back to Russia. To Ekaterinburg, in the Ipatiev House. The Fountain has shown me, Kurando." She watched as Kurando's eyes widened and knew that, at last, he had come to understand the implications of what she was saying. "You and I know that the Russian government can only have dark reasons for bringing them back to Russia."

Kurando's face paled visibly and he reached down to grip Saki's wrists, turning them over. His face grew tense with concentration.

Then he said, slowly, "Mother? May I fetch the Mumeiro?"

Relief swarmed through her at his words. Yes, Anastasia would be safe soon. "Of course."

Without further words, Kurando turned to ready his things.

--&--

He had never taken a boat to China before. The first time he had traveled from Japan, Kurando had been loaded up in Roger Beacon's airship.

And on the long ride across the sea to China, Kurando cursed himself for not finding some way to keep in contact with the old man.

The sea journey had carried on endlessly it seemed and even though Kurando found himself to have no problems with sea travel, the thoughts and worries of Russia and Anastasia plagued him like a disease, wormed too deep into his skin to ever be pulled successfully out.

Anastasia couldn't really be in such danger, could she?

But she could, he knew that. That was why he hadn't wished to separate from her when they had returned to Russia. He had to, he knew, but he had wanted to say with her or convince her to come with him.

Instead, he had left Anastasia and had found his attempts to return barred from the princess herself.

Throughout the course of the ship ride to China, the danger Anastasia was in hounded him.

Kurando found, however, that the agonizingly slow pace of the ship was nothing compared to the horrific slow pace of the train he gained passage on upon arriving in China.

Worse yet was that all the talk on the train was of Russia and the revolution.

"Do you think they'll kill the Romanovs?" one woman had asked, her seat in front of Kurando as they left the Chinese landscape behind.

"Well, they certainly can't keep them alive, can they?" a man had answered. "Not if they want to gain a rightful hold on Russia."

"But don't they have children? Little ones?" the woman had protested with a tremor in her voice. "Surely they can't _kill_ children?"

"They're Bolsheviks," the man said on a hoarse laugh. "Of course they can. And the only one of the Romanovs that is still a child is the son, and they certainly can't let _him_ live, can they?"

He was talking about little Alexei, Kurando realized and pressed his hands to his eyes to keep the headache inside his skull. Alexei was fourteen and was as innocent as any child he had met. How could they possibly consider killing him?

And then he thought of Anastasia, not quite eighteen, and felt sick to his stomach.

No matter what the cost he was getting her out of Russia, her and her family. If he had to cut his way through Russian soldiers then he would.

Even though it sickened him to think that an entire country could turn on its rightful rulers so quickly, his main concern was seeing to their survival.

There was no way—it never crossed his mind—that he would merely allow Anastasia to become the sacrificial lamb for the new government aiming for a hold in the frozen tundra of Russia.

She had come to mean something to him. Something fascinating and wild and burning. In the beginning, he had barely noticed the tiny princess always clinging to his side. He had been aware of her, but on the level that she was a Russian heir and thus needed be treated with respect and courtesy. And he had done his best.

It wasn't until the day that Anastasia had volunteered to go into the bowls of the Neim Ruins did he realize that his feelings for the young princess might transcend more than protector and charge. It was the thought of something happening, of the bright spot Anastasia left on the world being gone, that frightened him to the point where he realized that he might just return her feelings.

And on that day when they had finally saved the world from the clutches of those who would cause it harm, Kurando had allowed himself to hold her body against his. And there had been something amazing in the way her body had seemingly fit so perfect against his, the way her warmth seemed to fill him.

Upon their return to Inugami Village, he had been surprised to see how pleased he was at how well Anastasia fit in with his people, nearly a part of them. And he had dreaded the day when she came up to him to explain her yearn for the outside world. Though he knew of his duties to his village, he had decided to take the journey with her.

Of all the memories Kurando would store over the years, his best and finest would be his year with Anastasia, seeing the world as she did, with the youth and carefree nature that came so easy to her and falling madly in love with jade eyes and an easy smile.

Even his time in Russia with Anastasia—despite its tense and unease—were some of the fondest memories he could claim to have. Laughing with Alexei, slowly and subtly gaining Nicholas's trust, and hiding out with Anastasia from her sisters and her mother. It had all been so wonderful to be with Anastasia and her family.

He'd be damned if he allowed it to end.

The train ride to Russia wouldn't take him all the way into Ekaterinburg. It was too small and insignificant a town for the train to have a station. The closest Kurando could get was Omsk, a number of days from Ekaterinburg.

Kurando had no idea how to get to Ekaterinburg from Omsk and he was no idea how to procure the knowledge of how.

That was why Kurando found himself walking the town square of Omsk, frowning deeply at the crisp air. Even in July, Russia was chilly. The snow had melted off the ground—thankfully—but the grass was still stiff with the ice.

No one he questioned was willing to give him directions to Ekaterinburg. And it only made Kurando more nervous. No one wanted anything to do with Ekaterinburg. That could only mean they had reason to fear it.

The Bolsheviks were moving and they were moving against Anastasia. _His_ Anastasia.

A man leaned casually against his car, a thick coat covering his body and a hat pulled low over his head, covering his eyes from view. Not many in Omsk had this form of transpiration and the man looked as if he had paid for it, his clothing threadbare and in need of repair.

"Does this run?" Kurando asked, coming up to the man.

He raised one dark, bushy brow. "It might." He eyed Kurando's clothes and Kurando wished he had sense enough to buy trousers and a tunic to better fit into the Russian landscape. But he had been so consumed with reaching Anastasia he had not thought to change out of his hakama.

"I need to get to Ekaterinburg."

"Ekaterinburg?" Now the man's eyes darkened with suspicion. There weren't many Japanese men who came seeking for a way to that small, suddenly dangerous town. "Why?"

"Personal matters," Kurando returned and offered no more.

"I don' know many men who're lookin' to go to Ekaterinburg 'or 'personal matters'. Sorry, boy, but not me."

Without another word, Kurando lifted the gold his mother had been smart enough to give to him. There was a bit of it and he would have to say a prayer of thanks to Yuri for allowing him to be the one to carry their funds on their journey those years ago. He had no use for it over the years save his tour with Anastasia and even that had barely put a dent in his funds.

But if he had to spend it all to reach Anastasia, then he would.

The man eyed the bag Kurando lifted in his hand and pushed his hat back over his head. He knew gold when he heard it. "I mig't know 'ow ta get to Ekaterinburg. But it ain't a place I'm exactly willin' to be."

"Money is no object," he pointed out calmly and jingled the bag of coins for good measure, inciting the man's interest.

"A'right. Get in. Ekaterinburg is 'bout three days from 'ere." He opened the driver's seat and jumped, waiting a little impatiently for Kurando to come around the side and join him in the passenger seat. The engine started when Kurando placed the gold in his lap.

He considered it a good move on his part not to mention the rest of the gold he had tucked carefully into his pants.

--&--

"I dun 'ave anything against the Romanovs, you know?" the man said sometime later after the silence between them had seeped into long hours.

"Hmm?" Kurando answered, shrugging. He wasn't truly interested, but his inbred politeness wouldn't allow him simply ignore the question.

All he wanted to do was get to Anastasia.

"The Romanovs… well, I don' like the Tsar. No one does. But the children… well I ain't never met them and 'ey ain't exactly done anything to me, right? So I don' rightly think it's good 'ey're locked up and all. I jus' wanted the Tsar off his throne."

When Kurando said nothing to him, the man went back to peering silently out his window. The silence grew thick and heavy between them but Kurando had no intention of making any sort of friend out of this man. He merely wanted him to take him to Ekaterinburg then perhaps drive him and the Romanovs back to Omsk for the train.

But there was a thick feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that said it was already too late.

That was why he wanted so desperately to push on, to get to Ekaterinburg as fast as the car could take them. He had protested loud and long when the man had parked in front of an inn and told him that he couldn't drive another foot without some sleep. Kurando had then relented, mostly because he needed this man and he didn't know how to drive on his own.

Of course, Kurando didn't sleep. But then he hadn't slept a wink since he had left Japan and would likely not sleep until he was able to see for himself that Anastasia was unharmed.

"So ya… ah… a _friend_ of 'em Romanovs?" the man asked as their second day stretched into their third.

Kurando barely registered his voice because he was too busy looking for any sign of the town. He wasn't sure when they would start to see it down the dusty, dirt road they traveled but he wanted to keep his eyes open at all costs.

Then the man's voice did register and he went on edge. He was well aware the Romanovs, and anyone supporting them, became an enemy of the country.

"Why?"

"Well it's nothin'… 'cept I heard that some Japanese fella was hangin' out 'round the youngest Grand Duchess when she came back from 'er world tour," the man explained, not bothering to glance at him. Kurando was sure his wicked red eyes made the man think of devils and demons.

Good. If the man was afraid of Kurando then he likely wouldn't dare betray him.

"And if I do know the Grand Duchess Anastasia?"

"Well, it'd jus' make sense if'n you were goin' to Ekaterinburg 'cause you were sniffin' 'round for the Romanov girl." With a shrug that was barely noticeable in his thick coat he went on, "I 'eard rumors that 'em Bolsheviks had put 'em back in the country."

"Are the Bolsheviks really that terrible?" It was the man's voice that made Kurando ask it. He had spat out the Bolsheviks like the word was a curse.

"Some sayin' they are, some aren't. Personally, I don' think 'ey're any worse than the Tsar. But no better if ya ask me." The man took off his hat, tossing it into the back and rubbed his balding head. "It's that Lenin fella I don' like. He's got 'ese mean eyes and this whole bit on Communism sounds a bit… unfair ta me."

"Then why are they threatening the royal family if the Bolsheviks are just as frightening?" Kurando demanded, imaging the terror and fear on poor Anastasia's face when they had moved her from her home.

Not only that, she would have been devastated that her beloved Russia hated her family so much. Whenever Anastasia had spoken to him of Russia, it had been with a bright light in her irises and awe on her lips. She had seen her "Mother" Russia as the Garden of Eden where everyone else saw merely snow and farmers.

Anastasia Romanov had loved her country and her country wanted her dead.

The very idea had Kurando's hand curling into fists of rage.

"Change is better 'an no change, I guess. Russia's jus' headin' for trouble is all. Romanovs are lucky 'ey'll be out of it soon."

That didn't comfort Kurando at all.

_Anastasia… I'm coming. I'm coming for you. _

"Sonofa—" but the rest of the curse was lost quickly in the sputtering and coughing of the car. The man gave another long stream of curses as he guided the suddenly shaking car to the side of the road.

"What is it?" Kurando demanded, feeling the dread in his stomach deepen to a great rumble.

The man gave him no answer as he climbed out of his seat and approached the back of the car. He lifted it up and cursed colorfully once more as a spray of hot steam rose to meet his face.

"Overheated," he grunted to Kurando as he stepped out of the car. "And outta gas. I'm going ta have ta walk a ways back and get some." He glanced over at Kurando and looked down at his sword. "You know how to use that?"

"Yes."

"Good. Watch the damn car and I'll go get the gas." He fished his hat out of the car and then grumbled, "Best hurry, if'n you're sniffin' for the Romanovs. Bolsheviks can't be plannin' keepin' them alive for long."

"Hurry," was all Kurando said as the man turned and started to walk down the dirt road behind the car.

As he walked away, the dread in Kurando's stomach hardened into a lead ball of pain.

It was the early afternoon of July 17th, 1918.

* * *

**(non-)Historical Notes**

Ekaterinburg _was_ a small town but I don't know if it had a train station. I'm going with no because that's how I want the story to go. **Omsk**, however, is an actually town in Russian, somewhere near Ekaterinburg. That's why I chose it, obviously. And the Russian dude? No one important.

I don't know about _you_ but by the time I was finished playing _Shadow Hearts: Covenant_ I had racked up **major dough**. Hell, I could buy the merchant brothers and still have plenty to spare. Which was an improvement from _Shadow Hearts_—every time I had any sort of money I spent on that damn acupuncture guy! I gave Kurando the money because he needs it and, well, Yuri's dead so what does he need it for? Yes, that means we're following the **good ending** of Shadow Hearts: Covenant where Yuri is (sadly dead). I just don't want to risk the chance of having them run into Yuri by accident.

The weird looking words in Saki's vision where, in fact, Latin. Because I love Latin. **Ave Maria**is the beginning two the "Hail Mary" prayer. So it means, duh, "Hail Mary". **Non nobis, Domine** is loosely translated in "Not me, God". I put Latin in here because the Romanovs were heavy religious, and the Russian Orthodox is one of the strictest Christian community. It's right up their with Greek Orthodox. So, obviously, speaking or at least knowing Latin was a requirement.

The Bolsheviks tried their best to keep the **Romanov family's** movement as quiet as possible. Of course, leaks… er… _leaked_ out and that's why people knew what was going on to the Romanov family.

For those of you who were riding the bit about the car, no I wasn't. The **early model car** had it's engine in the back and it's trunk in the front. Directly opposite of what we have now. Just thought I'd let you know.

**Lenin**, obviously, was the leader of the Bolsheviks party and had a major hand in the Russian Revolution. Once the Romanov family was massacred, Lenin became the dictator of Russia and implemented Communism on Russia. Communism, it should be noted, looks great on paper but can't work out in real life because of human bias (I learned that in Sociology!)

For those of you who know the Russian Revolution history, Kurando should be worried that it was **July 17th, 1918**. Anastasia and her family were led down to the semi-basement at the Ipatiev House just before midnight and executed by the order of Lenin, who feared that the Romanovs would be liberated by the White Army (loyalists to the Tsar) and come back into power in Russia.

**reviews**

**Tiger5913:** well, thank you. I'm a fan of _all_ your Shadow Hearts work. XD When I was younger (hell, even today) was obsessive with the Romanov family and their sad, doomed life. Anastasia and Alexei were my favorite, but I loved them all, which is why I was sad that they were mentioned only once and in a negative in the game. Oh well… and I dunno know about a mature fic. I'm definitely thinking about a lemon, but I do I'll post it on my journal.

**Suzuno Oosugi:** I'm never completely historically accurate but I get the gist of it done. This is what happens when you're a history buff playing a World War I non-shooter game. Shooter games have no plot and they don't matter.

**Leonia:** I'm glad I can work real-life events into this video. Mostly because, in real life, Anastasia's survival seems highly unlikely but in Shadow Hearts… well, _my_ Anastasia kicked major ass and I can't see her dying!

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** yeah, probably not the best idea in the world… you know, Revolution and all…

_Next chapter:_ the time: 10:00. July. The 17th. the place: Ipatiev House. Basement.


	3. Portrait in Blood

**Disclaimer:** you could try to sue, but all you would get is a laugh

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov

**Author's Notes: **actually, this update isn't so bad, considering my normal awful habit of being a really slow updater. Yes, I know. I'm terrible. And the school year's started and I have A.P. Government this semester (shudder) so I'm going to be terribly busy.

awe! Look! A _warning_!

There is lots of blood in this chapter. Of course, _I_ don't think it's so bad, but that's because I have a high tolerance for this sort of thing. It's also very sad because… you know they _die_ here.

* * *

_/Chapter Three: Portrait in Blood/  
_**"I stuck around ****St. Petersburg  
****when I saw it was a time for a change  
****Killed the Czar and his ministers  
****Anastasia screamed in vain"  
**-"Sympathy for the Devil", Rolling Stones

* * *

In Anastasia's dreams she saw only happy times. Russia when she was younger, long before war and distaste of rule in the people. That year touring the world, seeing the sights without the danger or death that had dogged her before. Her brother when he was finally cured of his sickness. Her sisters challenging her to horseback riding and the summers spent in Alexander Palace.

And Kurando. Of course, Kurando. Whenever Anastasia dreamed of the times when she was happy, Kurando was prevalent in them.

The one she was having right now involved the young samurai storming the fences of Ipatiev House and freeing her family, whisking them away to Japan in safety and warmth. And, of course, at the end of their journey to Japan Kurando then pledged his undying love to her at Sukune Fountain, to which she returned in kind.

It was such a pleasant dream that Anastasia never wanted it to end. She never wanted to wake up to see the bland, uninviting walls of Ipatiev House. To watch her father look at them all as if any moment they would all disappear before him. To watch Maria and Tatiana grow thin with worry and Olga silent with fear. To watch Alexandra shift back and forth between her son and her daughters, not sure which one she wished to protect more.

Reality was far worse than Anastasia's dream.

She rolled next the warm body beside her, curling herself into the inviting comfort. "_Kurando…_" she sighed, wishing the waist she wrapped her arms around had a more masculine feel. But Maria's body would have to do.

Just as she had settled deeper into her dream a noise sounded just outside her subconscious. Moaning under her breath, she buried her head more fully against Maria's back, praying whoever it was would go away.

Then she remembered it was well passed ten at night and no one should be making any noise outside her bedroom.

With a small gasp, Anastasia snapped awake, throwing back the covers that sheathed her and Maria's bodies. The noise was a brisk knock on her door but it brought up wells of fear in Anastasia. No one should be knocking the door. Not this late at night.

Olga heard it as well and both she and Anastasia were light sleepers. As Tatiana and Maria pulled themselves deeper into sleep to avoid disturbance, Olga picked herself up and tied a loose robe around her nightdress, glancing once at Anastasia before approaching the door.

Giving her a small sigh to prepare herself, Olga opened the door a crack.

The guard threw the door the rest of the way open, entering the room without any formal announcement, all but shoving Olga against the wall in his wake.

A shriek escaped Anastasia as she hastened to throw covers back over her and Maria's bodies. Maria snapped awake, but wisely kept herself pressed down into the mattress, snaking a hand out to grip Anastasia's.

The noise had also aroused Tatiana, who looked like a Valkyrie as she pressed a sheet to her body and demanded in a righteous tone, "What do you think you're doing? You cannot just come barging in here and—"

"Get dressed, all of you," the guard cut her off in a deep monotone. "Gowns for a portrait. Go down to the basement and wait for the rest of your family."

"I'll inform my father of this!" Tatiana thundered, the only girl in the room who had managed not to blanch at the fact that this big, hulking guard was now witness to their thin, cotton nightgowns.

"Dress," was all the guard said and then left their room.

Silence filled his place and Anastasia found herself with the need to dispel it. Instead, all she could do was bite her lip and watch as Olga and Tatiana shared silent, "Big Pair" eyes with one another.

And then Olga, pale and worried, said stiffly, "Get dressed in the gowns with diamonds on them."

"What? Why?" Anastasia demanded, hopping from the bed even as Maria went to obey.

"Not now, Anastasia. I don't care how much of the world you've seen and I haven't," Olga continued in her stiff, hard voice. "Do as I say. Gown. _Now_."

"_Now_, Anastasia," Tatiana pressed when Anastasia hesitated.

With a huff, she obeyed her older sisters, helping Maria first into her green, slimming gown and then putting her hair into an elegant twist. Maria's gown was simple, with just a hint of shine and long green sleeves that made her look more like a spinster than a young princess, but such gowns always looked elegant and lovely on Maria's gorgeous figure. Anastasia never managed to pull it off, she was too thin.

Maria then turned to help Anastasia into her own gown. It was a pale gold dress, embroidered with the slightest hint of flowers. The faintest tinge of red had also been added to the gown and was prominent in the silky waves of her sleeves. The sleeves themselves were cut on into sections and they flowered down her sides instead of following her arms.

"Alright," Anastasia said as she stuffed on her undergarments, wiggling unladylike into them. "Let's go."

"Wait! Your hair!" Maria dragged her back down, twining Anastasia's thick, auburn hair into a braid that swung down her back. "It gets everywhere," Maria told her fondly, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek.

Olga approached, her blood-red gown—decorated only by a thick gold sash across her middle and a small cinch belt around her waist—swishing noisily against the floor. Olga was always the most proper of the four girls and Anastasia was sure Olga's simple gown had at least four petticoats under it and the red bodice was sheer and had several layers to it.

But what caught Anastasia's attention was the ornate dagger Olga held in her hand. She recognized the ivory hilt, encrusted with small diamonds and rubies. It was their father's dagger. One she had thought lost in the palace.

"Here," Olga said, thrusting the dagger out. "Take it and put it under your dress."

"Me?" Anastasia asked with a shake of her head. "Why me?"

"You're the one who's best suited for it, Anastasia," Tatiana pointed out as she too came over. Tatiana wore the most form-fitting and beautiful dress of the sisters, but that was no surprise as she was the most beautiful. It was softly purple and had a hint of fairy tales with its sheer over gown the accentuated her narrow hips and ample bosom, with falls and waves of fabric that shimmered and sparkled as she moved.

"But… but Olga's the oldest, she should have it," she protested. It was true both Kurando and Karin had taught her the basics of sword fighting and dagger wielding but she also had the Golden Angel.

Which she had slipped into a pocket of her undergarments.

Just in case.

"Take it, Anastasia. You're the only one who'll be able to use it." Making sure there was no further room to protest, Olga dropped the handle into Anastasia's palm and backed away.

With a sigh, Anastasia lifted the hem of her dress, pressing the knife and its sheath neatly into her boot before standing up straight. She felt a little awkward, weighed down by both diamonds and the Golden Angel but she didn't lose all her equilibrium and enough walking would allow her to get used to being weighed down.

She straightened herself and stared at her sisters as they stared right back at her. Her heart suddenly ached deep in her chest and she found her eyes devouring every one of them, trying to memorize them and imprint them in her mind. It was an awful feeling, memorizing her sisters, but she suddenly starved for every detail. Their faces and their eyes and their hair and their noses. She suddenly needed to remember _everything_.

Maria, tears shining her big, wide eyes, was suddenly embracing her, pressing her face down into her shoulder to muffle her sobs. And then, suddenly, Anastasia felt like crying too, though she didn't know why.

"Oh, Anastasia, do you think we'll be alright?" Maria asked, her voice muffled against the fabric of Anastasia's dress.

"Of course," Anastasia answered but choked on her own voice. "Of course."

"We need to go," Olga said, she and Tatiana holding each other in the same way. When Anastasia moved to their arms and they opened them and embraced her tightly, her body nearly consumed by their hugs. She was just so much shorter than they were.

"It's okay, it's okay," Tatiana promised as she shared another "Big Pair" look with Olga. "It's going to be okay, Anastasia. You are a survivor."

But she didn't feel like a survivor. She felt sick to her stomach.

They exited their bedroom, holding hands, just as the rest of their family caught up. Alexandra wore a pure white gown, the one she had placed diamonds into, and was holding Alexei's hand tight in her own as he squirmed in his elegant dress trousers and thick coat, decorated with medals and sashes, a miniature match for Nicholas's outfit.

"Oh Papa!" Olga cried, nearly losing her no-nonsense air as she flew into her father's arms, who immediately caught her and cradled her, murmuring comforting words into her hair.

Tatiana drifted into her mother's arms and the two nearly identical women clung to each other as Alexei pulled his hand free to stand with Maria. Anastasia tried to offer the youngest siblings a smile, but only managed a halfhearted one. She couldn't seem to manage over the thick fear in her bosom.

And then she raised her head and caught her father's eyes, the dark blue irises boring into hers. She knew then it was bad and Anastasia's stomach twisted.

"Your Highness," an aging old man said suddenly, drawing the Romanov family's attention to him. His gave Nicholas a stiff bow before straightening himself.

"Sergei," Nicholas greeted the Romanov physician, his voice light and cheery but deeply surprised. "They made you come out of bed, too?"

"All of us, Sire," the doctor Sergei Botkin said, motioning behind him. At the doctor's back stood Anna Demidova—the maid of Ipatiev house and the Romanov family—Ivan Kharitonov, the cook that had been with them since Alexander Palace, and Alexei Krupp, the footman who had been with the family since Nicholas was himself a boy.

It was then Anastasia realized with a certain dread that the entire Ipatiev household was with them.

"We've been ordered into the basement with you as well," Doctor Botkin explained, his voice mirroring the look on Nicholas's. "A portrait of the family?" The doctor, as well as the rest of the servants, were all in their nightgowns.

"Yes. Lord knows why, at this hour," Nicholas answered and the look on his face suggested that their presence bothered him greatly, only because he had realized the same thing Anastasia had.

"Lord knows," Botkin uttered in reply and both men shared a long look. And then, with a terrible sigh, Botkin smiled at Alexandra and the children. "Well, we mustn't keep them waiting. Come, come. This way."

They followed the good doctor down to the semi-basement of Ipatiev House, the air around them thick and heavy with fear. Anastasia noticed that Demidova had withdrawn a cross from around her large neck and was whispering thick, Russian prayers into it. Both Kharitonov and Krupp looked at peace with themselves, but their bodies were taut and posed for action.

The Golden Angel in her pocket suddenly felt heavy.

"Momma!" Alexei protested, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm tired. I want to go back to bed." And even there was a childish whine in his voice, Anastasia sensed that it stemmed from his fear of what would happen in the basement room.

The room they entered was bland and molding from age. The paper on the walls were peeling back to reveal the piping and there was no carpeting or scented candles to make the basement more homey. Instead, all there was was a chair in the center of the room.

"Romanov son and Tsarina on the chair," the guard in the corner ordered, motioning toward the object with his thumb.

Nicholas nodded to a frowning Alexandra and ushered her and Alexei toward the chair, keeping himself in the front of the room. Olga drifted to the right side of Alexandra, with her sisters on the same side, but further back. The servants moved to the farthest left corner in the front of the room, huddled together.

Sergie Botkin passed Nicholas and leaned over to murmur something in his ear before joining the servants in the corner.

Anastasia found herself standing just beside her mother and brother on their left side, nearly close enough to grip the chair. Alexei was squirming with fear and anticipation and took a stand beside the chair as well, close enough so Alexandra could keep a firm grip on his wrist.

The door to the basement opened once more and in stepped another tall men, dressed in stiff military uniform. His dark hair was cut short around his head and a thick mustache and beard covered the lower half of his face as he thudded into the room with three more guards.

Suddenly, Anastasia found it impossible to _breathe_.

With a cool lift of his chin, the bearded man looked Nicholas directly in the eye and said, "In view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you."

No one could breathe.

Nicholas whirled around, his face pale with horror, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something to his family.

_Oh my God,_ Anastasia thought wildly.

In a near blind state, Anastasia found herself wrapping her arms around Alexei, dragging him hard against her body. Alexei gave a yelp of surprise and attempted of free himself, but Anastasia's grip on him was viselike and nearly to the point of crushing his bones.

Over and over again, in her head, a litany played. _Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, no, no, no, no, no!_ And the blood rushed out of her face and down into her toes and she was surprised she didn't pass out right there.

The Tsar turned back to the man and demanded, in a slow and confused voice, "What? What?" But the look in his eyes told them he already know.

"In view of the fact that you relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you," he repeated.

Then he raised his hand and shot Nicholas point-black in the chest with his small, calibrated Colt. Nicholas jerked back, a howl escaping his lips, as he fell onto the ground, still instantly, hand halfway to the wound on his chest.

_Nononononononononononononononono!_

Alexandra screamed, jumping to her feet. Anastasia heard someone else screaming as well, but she was too far gone to realize it was her.

"Papa!" Olga screeched, jumping forward to aid her father—who was in all likeness already dead. "Papa!"

The man who had killed her father now turned on Olga and raised his Colt once more. The deafening sound filled the air as Olga rocketed backwards, the bullet piecing not her chest but her skull. And—_oh Lord_—the blood. Everywhere, dripping down passed Olga's dimming eyes and onto her already deeply red gown as she sank to the floor.

Then the other men raised their guns and Alexandra was their first target.

Anastasia reacted, not responded. She whirled around, Alexei still clutched tightly against her. She felt the hot graze of a bullet as it cut through her shoulder and passed Alexei's ear. She watched in horror as crimson splattered across Alexei's face, dripping down from her burning wound.

"Non nobis, Domine!" Tatiana screamed as a bullet ripped through her side. She stumbled backward, but remained upstanding, her eyes wide with horror. "_Ave, ave Maria!_"

She grabbed Alexei and thrust both their bodies to the ground, hissing softly in pain. Three bullets hit her hard in the back, but instead of their cold metal entering her Anastasia felt the hardness of her diamonds digging into her skin and cutting her flesh. She dared to look to her left.

Maria and Tatiana were huddled together as the soldiers raised their rifles once more. Horror and pain had contorted their young faces into masks of anguish and they raised their slim fingers into the air, trying to make the sign of the Cross.

_BANG!_ And then their bodies hit the ground. Anastasia's beautiful, kind sisters, hitting the ground with gentle thuds, joining her mother and father, hand twitching one, twice, a third time, their voices sobbing out.

And they weren't dead. They were still on the ground, clinging bravely to life, trying to pull themselves to their feet.

Finally, the soldiers had had enough of wasting their bullets on them and Anastasia nearly screamed when saw the gleam of bayonets coming down upon their young, innocent bodies. Tatiana and Maria screamed in loud sopranos of pain as the bayonets were brought slowly down into them and it seemed that years and years passed before they were finally silenced.

But then they quiet. So quiet it was as if Anastasia's ears had broken and she was surrounded by only darkness.

_Please, dear God, no. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Oh Lord, it's happening!_

"Quiet, quiet!" Anastasia hissed into Alexei's ear as he struggled wildly in her arms, inhaling the scent of blood on him and nearly vomiting. "Please, Alexei, play dead. Don't let them know you're alive."

He went still beneath her and Anastasia saw his eyes were closed, as if dead or asleep, and she didn't know if it was because he was listening to her or because he had passed out from pain and shock.

Nearly sobbing, sickened to the very bottom of her stomach with the stench of blood and death, she pressed her face into Alexei's shoulders and forced herself to follow her own advice.

In the background she could hear the rasping breaths of Doctor Botkin as he was murdered and the grunts of big Krupp as he fought off his captors, but was crippled fatally by a bullet. Kharitonov made not a sound.

It was Anna Demidova that would haunt Anastasia for the rest of her—seemingly short—life. The woman screamed and screamed, invoking God for help. The bullets that had killed the other women had run out. And Anastasia bore a silent witness to Demidova's pain as she was beaten to death, the only relief she garnered when she finally died.

Anastasia wasn't sure how much time had passed, if any had at all, but it felt like eons passed as she laid on top of Alexei, praying softly to herself that no one would realize they both breathed.

Then suddenly she heard the heavy thud of boots near her ears. She didn't dare move, she didn't dare speak.

"Are these two dead?" a soldier asked and Anastasia felt a boot nudge her shoulder lightly.

"Hell yeah," a second replied. "I shot that kid in the face. Look at the blood all over him! And I know I hit the girl at least three times in the back and she was down on the first hit. They're as dead as you want them to be. But you want me to check?"

Panic swarmed her as she felt the heat of a hand near her neck. If they found at she was alive they would surely take those bayonets and—

"We don't have time. Grab the bodies and load them up." A pair of boots thudded away but Anastasia still didn't dare to breath.

Strong hands lifted both her and Alexei up and she thanked the gods she was able to keep a handle on her young brother and that these soldiers had too many other things on their minds to worry about her being alive.

But right now what she really wanted to do was make them bleed, make them scream and howl like her family had, like everyone they killed had, and make them understood what it was to realize they were going to die. She wanted to make them bleed and bleed and bleed. To reach out and grab the dagger in her boot that Olga insisted she wear…

_Olga. Oh God, Olga. _

And it felt like she was going to vomit all over again. It kept replying in her mind, Olga jerked back and falling down, face washed away with blood and cerebral matter as she tried to save their father. Poor Tatiana and Maria. Her father. Mama.

She was nearly insane with rage and nearly revealed that she was alive. But Alexei was locked solidly in her arms and reminded her that she had to live, for her brother. Her brother couldn't do it without her.

Forcing herself to take unnoticeable breaths, she continued to play dead as they brought her out of the Ipatiev House and into the truck.

--&--

It was two in the morning when Kurando and the man finally rolled into town. The stark silence of the small village had him panicking, but he had already been cursing the entire time.

The man, however, was unfazed by it. "Did ya see 'ose lights a while back?" he asked to which Kurando gave a curt nod. "That were the White Army, supporters of the Tsar, 'ey've finally figured out where 'ey are and are probably coming to liberate 'em."

Which wasn't a good thing, in Kurando's mind. Especially if the Bolsheviks were already aware of it.

"Wait here," he snapped and didn't wait for the man's answer. If the man didn't that was fine. Kurando would just figure something else out once Anastasia and her family were safely in tow. All that mattered right now was getting to them.

And he was so close—so close he could taste _her_—but the thick ball of dread in his gut had not left him.

"Ipatiev House!" the man called after him, but Kurando already knew that.

He leapt over the barracks of the house and landed gracefully—and silently—on his feet. Unsheathing his sword, he slid into the shadows as he came closer and closer to the door, nudging it lightly with a foot.

When the door swung open without further aggravation, the ball of dread in his stomach tightened to a painful level.

Kurando entered the house and was struck by its silence. He knew instantly that no one was in this house. At least, not anymore.

"Anastasia?" he called softly, unable to accept that she was gone. As quickly and quietly as he could manage—and as a samurai he managed very well—he checked each room. Most he found were bland and unfurnished. But he happened upon the Tsar and Tsarina's room on the second floor, the first room next to the stairs. The room was empty but the royal clothing was still there, hanging out of drawers as if someone had hastily dressed. Beside the couple's bedroom was what Kurando assumed was Alexei's room, judging by the toy soldiers and the books on war and the pants and shirts strewn about.

Still no sign of the female Romanovs.

At the very end of the floor, the last room on the right, Kurando came into the girls' room. He recognized Anastasia's scent instantly, rain and lilies, and the mingling scent of her sisters. But the girls weren't there.

_The basement!_ Kurando realized suddenly, even though he dreaded to think what he found find there. What reason could there be the Tsar and his family being in the basement at this hour?

But, still, he went.

There was only one room in the basement level of the Ipatiev House and it scared him to no end to see it was ajar, with a small light echoing from it. Pausing only for a moment to adjust his control over his emotions, Kurando entered the room.

Instantly, he retrenched, hand reaching out to clamp over his mouth.

In his life, Kurando had killed men before. He had seen blood and terror and death before. He had caused it a number of times. But this… this was something else entirely. There was too much blood. Too many people. This was no battle. It was a massacre, helpless victims being slaughtered.

The smell… he had never smelt death before either. His battles had all been done in the open air, where the wind had carried the heavy stench of blood far away. In this room, the blood could only hover in the air, saturating the atmosphere with its stench and congealing into the stuff of nightmares.

And the blood was fresh. The ribbons of it still dripped down the aging walls and slid along the floor, looking nearly black in the dim light of the bulb fluttering overhead.

_Anastasia…_ he thought suddenly, feeling like he would merely vomit in terror. Anastasia had been in the center of all this, he knew. He caught a whiff of her scent before it was devoured by the pungent stench of death.

He backed from the room, eyes wide with terror, and collapsed against the wall opposite it.

"Anastasia…" he breathed, suddenly fighting tears. "Gods… Anastasia…"

Was it even possible she was alive? After what had gone on in that room? He could nearly see the massacre know, his poor, darling Anastasia only managing a small scream of terror as her life was cut so brutally short.

His hand balled into a tight fast and he slammed it against the wall, splintering plaster and wood. Shaking from rage and grief, he turned and walked back up the stairs and out of the house.

The bastards that had done that to Anastasia were still alive and he would fix that sure enough. He wouldn't let them get away for hurting something so fine and bright and wonderful and everything he ever wanted.

_No… oh please… no… Anastasia, don't leave me. _

The grief almost destroyed him. Almost had him collapsing in pain and simply willingly himself to disappear. But he didn't. He still had work to do. He couldn't rest until Anastasia's murderers had received her pain, ten fold.

"Well?" the man asked when Kurando returned.

"They're not there," Kurando said tightly and got into the passenger seat.

"'Suppose not. If'n I 'eard the White Army was heading my way I 'pose I'd…" he trailed off as he got in the driver's seat and saw the misery eating Kurando's garnet gaze. In silent pity he watched the boy lower his head to the dashboard and take two deep long breaths.

"What?" Kurando demanded, sounding more like an angry, impassioned man than a child.

"If'n I were them Bolsheviks I guess I'd take 'em Romanovs up to Four Brothers. Mine shafts that go all the way down to the Core. Ain't no one finds his way 'round there 'less he gots himself a guide or knows where'n he's goin'," the man answered, knowing very well he was asking for trouble but unable to ignore the raw pain and aguish in the young boy's eyes.

Kurando gripped the man's arms, tight. "Can you take me there?"

The man looked into Kurando burning gaze and saw the murder written here. He hunched his shoulders and looked away. "'Gainst my better judgment but… yeah… I can."

Without another word, the man gunned the engine and took Kurando there.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

**Big Pair** refers to Tatiana and Olga. It was an affectionate nickname the other Romanov family members had for the two oldest sisters. Likewise, Anastasia and Maria were referred to as the **Little Pair**.

the servants **Sergei Botkin**, **Ivan Kharitonov**, **Alexei Krupp**, and **Anna Demidova** were all actual servants to the Romanovs, and all before their capture. Of course, not much is known about the servants. Botkin's personality is known through what his granddaughter told historians later on. All were killed with the Romanovs and Demidova was indeed beaten to death.

Some rearranging went into the positions of the Romanov family. Alexandra was indeed sitting in a chair, but **Alexei** had jumped into his father's after he had been shot. The executioner then shot Alexei in the ear and the boy died(?). The positions of the servants and the sisters have also been moved around, and the number of shooters has been lowered to suit the purposes of this story. A link to the **Yurovsky Report** is in my profile, which gives frightening details of the night of the execution.

The executioner was named **Yakov Yurovsky** and he was a high ranking official in the Bolshevik army, born from a poor, working family. In his report to Lenin, Yurovsky mentioned how the women seemed to deflect the bullets off the clothes (the diamonds). The speech given to Nicholas II before he was shot was indeed the exact words Yurovsky used, or so he said in his report.

The murder of the **Romanov women** took much more time to kill in actual history. At first, they were shot at like the rest of the room. However the diamonds and precious jewels sown into their bodices protected them from harm. Bayonets were used after that and it also failed. Finally, they were killed with bullets to the head. To save from time (and to save Anastasia's sanity) I forwent the true deaths of Tatiana, Maria, and Olga and tried them in for something quicker and more vague.

Though I did attempt kill **Alexei Romanov** something just wouldn't let me. This is mostly because Alexei's body was never recovered from the Romanov gravesite. Two bodies were missing from the recovered ones, one matching Anastasia's description and the other Alexei's. A link to the autopsy report on the Romanov bodies can also be found in my profile (be warned it's a PDA file).

**reviews**

**Riana1:** I'm really glad you're enjoying and at least your prayers are coming true… (coughsofarcough)

**Suzuno Oosugi:** guess Kurando was a little late XD And yes, I love writing Saki. She's such a funny, independent woman that I find myself drawn to her sharp personality. Plus she totally hooked up Kurando and Anastasia. Yay her!

**DarlingKittyStar:** oh dear… it seems like I've left you with _another_ cliff hanger.

**crazycutie2:** updating is a very hard thing for me to do. 1) because I'm lazy 2) because I'm lazy and 3) because I hate editing

**Tiger5913:** I kept on fighting with myself on whether Kurando should arrive before or after the exaction. Obviously, I chose after. XD This, though, gives Anastasia the chance to show us how strong she truly is. Our Grand Duchess is _not_ out for the count!

**immortalrhiannon:** I love history and I loved how accurately Shadow Hearts did that. Okay, so, it wasn't terribly accurate but it was for a video game. Plus, I'm just so psyched that they added the Romanov. The only reason I started playing Shadow Hearts: Covenant was because I heard Anastasia Romanov was going to be in it.

**Yuuka Yagami:** haha, everyone was holding out that Kurando would make it. And I totally destroyed that thought. Bad me. Oh, well. There's still a chance.

_Next chapter:_ the things one must do to survive


	4. Four Brothers

**Disclaimer:** oh gosh, I wish

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov

**Author's Notes:** well, here you go, perfectly on time. w00t. Seriously, this is a major accomplishment for me. You have no idea. I struggle to reach my deadlines every single week… speaking of deadlines, I still have my newspaper article to write…

Hey, look! _More_ blood!

You've been warned!

* * *

_/Chapter Four: Four Brothers/  
_**"Well happy birthday  
****Her blood's on my hands  
****It's kind of a shame  
****Cause I did like that dress"  
**-"Yes, Anastasia" Tori Amos

* * *

Still clutching Alexei tightly in her arms, Anastasia was loaded up into the truck, rocketed painfully into the back. She kept Alexei pressed tightly under her arm, breathing slowly into his neck.

The low murmur of voices made chills run up and down her spine but Anastasia didn't dare move and open her eyes. The only reason she was still alive was because to the rest of the world she was dead. The only way she could survive was to continue to play the part.

Alexei was a solid, stiff weight beneath her and she prayed to the Lord that he didn't moan or roll over in his unconsciousness. Then again, he could be playing dead just as well as she was. So well that it even fooled her.

She desperately wanted to know her brother's condition, but didn't dare speak a word and try to find out while the voices continued to murmur.

Then the vibrations of the truck jerked her and Alexei an inch. The voices died and there was only the sound of the wind ripping against the flaps of the truck's trunk. Still Anastasia held herself rigid and still, not daring to move. Not in the slightest.

Hours seemed to tick by—though in all likeliness it was only minutes since she had been loaded into the truck. Alexei was still—thankfully—unconscious underneath her and Anastasia prayed he would stay that way.

It would be easier to deal with things without having to worry about Alexei's state of mind.

But when she moved, lifting herself only slightly off her brother's body, Alexei's eyes snapped open. He didn't say anything—maybe he couldn't—but the look in his young eyes made words useless.

Horror. Pure horror.

"Alexei," she murmured, sliding a hand over his mouth. "Don't scream."

He shook his head, letting her know that he wasn't going to. Anastasia tentatively lifted herself completely off his body, removing her hand. She was tense, ready to pounce on him at a moment's notice. But Alexei looked too weak and pale for any outbursts.

"Natsya?" Alexei crooked, looking directly into her eyes. "Wh—where?" He turned away from her and then saw _them_.

Their family lay spread and dead before them, their eyes open and horrified. Alexandra and Nicholas were at the back of the truck, their hair blowing gently in the wind. Tatiana and Olga were beside them, their bodies all but on top of each and Maria was right beside Anastasia, her hand almost touching her foot.

Demidova, Krupp, Kharitonov, and Botkin had been pressed into a small corner of the truck, their bodies loaded last apparently.

There was a painful hitch in her chest and for a moment she couldn't breathe. There was so much blood on all of them, their clothes and faces washed with the dark crimson. Even though their lips were silent their screams resonated in Anastasia's head. She could hear them all, over and over again.

Never silent. They would never be silent inside her, she realized.

But she had other things she needed to worry about. Alexei was all but hyperventilating against her, his fingers shaking hard against her leg, his blue eyes never leaving the forms of their dead, bloodied family.

"Alexei, Alexei," she called sternly, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his eyes back to hers. "Look at me, Alexei. Look at me. Breathe. _Breathe_. In and out, like me." She demonstrated, drawing in deep gulps that only succeeded in causing her lungs to ache. She wanted to kick and scream and howl at the unfairness of it all. _Momma, Papa! _

She couldn't. Anastasia couldn't lose her control now. Not now. Alexei needed her and he was all she had left. She was the oldest and she needed to be strong.

Alexie's bottomless blue eyes drifted back over to hers and Anastasia watched with a mixture of pride and great grief as he struggled to calm himself. He was so young and so brave and all she wanted to do was hold him.

"What are we going to do?" Alexei asked, his voice strained as he looked only at her eyes. Nowhere else.

"I don't… I really don't…" she trailed off, glancing around the truck. Her eyes never once strayed down. She couldn't bare the sight. If she looked she would break. Anastasia knew that much. "We have to get away."

"How?"

And there was the question she was still struggling with. How could she and Alexei possibly escape? The men had guns and bayonets. She had a Faberge egg and an ornate dagger.

_"If you're smarter than your enemies, chances are you'll probably win,"_ Karin would have told Anastasia. And, of course, Karin relied on that motto.

_"Being stronger does not always give one an advantage,"_ Kurando had explained once.

_"Waste 'em,"_ would have been Yuri's suggestion, simple and clean.

To survive this, Anastasia knew she would have to combine all three.

"Here," she told her brother as she lifted up the hem of her dress, showing her boots underneath, hosting the sheath and the dagger her sister had given her. _Thank you, Olga. Thank you, thank you._ "You take my dagger. I'll use the Golden Angel."

"We're going to fight?" Alexei asked, his eyes widening. If he hadn't been so pale Anastasia knew he might have turned green. "Why can't we just… jump?"

"We're going too fast."

The look in his eyes almost had Anastasia changing her mind, but then she remembered that the first time she had seen battle she had been his age. And she couldn't do this without him.

"I need your help, Alexei," she told him and she did. All she could do now was cling to the fact that her brother was here with her, _alive_.

He nodded, frowning, and reached for the dagger in Anastasia's boot.

Then the car grinded to a halt. Anastasia threw herself over Alexei once more, muffling his gasp of surprise against the fabric of her dress, his body pressed against her lower torso. Beneath her, Alexei went still as stone, well aware that they had to play dead again.

Anastasia heard the shuffle of boots against gravel as the flap of the truck's bed was flung open.

"C'mon, c'mon," someone said. "We haven't got all the time in the world."

There was a grunt and Anastasia knew that they were lifting up the bodies of her family. _To bury them_. Unnoticeably, her fingers tightened over Alexei's arms.

"Do ya think we should burn them?"

"Hell no. Have you ever seen a body burn? Takes forever. Not enough time."

And she was going to be sick. Right there. They wanted to _burn_ her family. Burn up their bodies until they were nothing more than smoldering ashes in the forest. Tatiana and Maria. Olga. Mama and Papa.

Even as her body threatened to shake in protest, Anastasia didn't dare move. She listened to the grunts of the soldiers as they picked up each body one by one and hulled them off, cursing and grunting at her family.

Alexei shifted slightly beneath her and she felt his hand against her leg, moving for the dagger.

Then something was lifting her up and Anastasia only managed to just keep herself from screaming. Alexei was still pressed tight against her body, his hand still against her leg, but his fingers were curled over the dagger's hilt.

_Oh please, oh please_, she thought wildly.

"Do we have to undress them?" a soldier asked as he and his partner carted Anastasia and Alexei into the woods, their bodies held like a carpet between them.

"We don't have the time," the other soldier answered. "But it is a pity for the dress to go to waste…"

"You suppose the girl's got diamonds in her corset like the others?"

"I reckon."

Alexei's body tightened against hers and Anastasia almost could hear his thoughts screaming in his head. _Now! _

She snapped up just as Alexei twisted upward, drawing the dagger across the soldier's throat. Blood splashed across his hands and down the white of his dress shirt. The soldier gurgled in surprise, hand reaching out to cup his wound, and a tiny splatter of blood marked Alexei's face.

Anastasia had her Golden Angel out and she hit the ground attacking. She lunged forward, bearing the Faberge egg down on the soldier's skull. Her face was taut with emotions and she felt the salty sting of tears as they rolled down her cheeks and across her lips.

These men had murdered her family. These men had murdered her family. _These men_…

Again, she brought down the Golden Angel. She heard the resounding crack of the soldier's skull as his body dropped to the floor, Anastasia on top of him. Blood rushed to the head wound and she felt the splash of it against her hands and on her dress. She didn't care. She wouldn't. Not with these men.

Pressing her knee into the soft give of the soldier's stomach, Anastasia lifted herself up.

And felt sick.

_Oh, oh God… look at what we've down…_ she thought to herself, her eyes growing wild with animalistic fear.

She had killed men before. With Yuri and the others. But it had been different. Those soldiers in Japan… they had all worn masks. Masks that made them look like monsters. Things Anastasia had no qualms killing. Even those whose faces _had_ been visible had been different. They had reeked of evil. Veronica Vera, Doctor Hojo, Garan, and Rasputin… they had looked and felt and smelt evil. All the terrible things she feared and it been easy to allow herself to draw their blood.

But these men…

These men looked like normal men. Like soldiers. Like the men who had fought for her country and for her family and for her.

And she had killed them. She could feel the soldier's sticky blood on her hands and the warmth of the liquid on her dress.

"Anastasia," Alexei sobbed, gripping the dagger in his two hands like an anchor in a storm. "_Anastasia_."

Nausea rolled in Anastasia's stomach as she turned and saw the state of her brother. Covered in another man's blood, gripping a bloody dagger in his hands, shaking from terror and fear and guilt.

Of all the people in her life, Alexei had always been the one person she had wanted to protect. And what had she done? She had told him to use the dagger and take a life.

It was nothing like the battles she had fought when she had been Alexei's age. She had been wrong. And she would regret it for the rest of her life.

"My God…" a new voice called and both Alexei and Anastasia whirled to see another soldier rushing to them.

Anastasia moved first bringing her Golden Angel into the soldier's face as he raised his gun to fire. He stumbled back, blood bursting from his nose as he howled in pain.

"What the hell?" the soldier demanding, gripping his nose as he continued to raise his gun. "You aren't—"

Alexei moved first and Anastasia followed him. Her brother dug his dagger deep into the soldier's coated chest, using his lithe weight to bring them to the group. Anastasia brought her Golden Angel down again, aiming for the soldier's skull. Alexei wheezed out a breath as he brought the dagger out and back down.

And again. They did it again and again, brought their weapons down and into the soldier's body. They ran on pure adrenaline and fear and rage and the soldier beneath them became all their congealed fear and they fought against it until they were exhausted and coated with sweat and blood.

She rocked back on her heels, rubbing her bloody fingertips over her face. "Oh my God…" she whispered reverently, pinching her cheeks to distill the numbness on her.

Beside her, Alexei had his face buried in her bloody dress, gripping the hem like a lifeline. Anastasia shook her head and picked Alexei up, holding him against her body. They stood perfectly still, clinging to each other, trying to seep each other's warmth into their suddenly frigid bodies.

"We have to go," she whispered, pressing Alexei's slim body against hers, rubbing her palms comfortingly against Alexei's shoulders.

"Alright," the boy managed, nodding his agreement at Anastasia's decision.

--&--

After the tedious boat trip China and then the endless drive to Russia in a train, Kurando thought he had experienced the longest hours in history.

But he was wrong.

He was experiencing it right now.

The Four Brothers were no more than a few miles from Ekaterinburg and a short ride in a car, but Kurando could almost feel time slow itself down into endless hours. And it made him want to jump out of his skin.

The tension from the man beside him wasn't helping either.

The man kept muttering to himself in dejected, thick Russian. And likely in slang, as well. Anastasia had attempted to teach him the most basic of Russian when they had decided to return. He had only managed to grapple with the barest of her language, and even then only if the words were said slowly and he was allowed for several moments to review them.

If Kurando remembered correctly, Anastasia had a knack for languages. She could almost speak fluent Japanese and had picked up a number of separate languages on their tour. Though Anastasia had claimed not to be the smartest member of her family, she was surely one of the smartest people Kurando had ever met.

Though she had been right. Olga had been smarter.

Kurando didn't want to think about them. Not now. Not of Olga and the time when she had cornered him and demanded to know his true intentions on her sister. Not of Maria and her inquiries on Japanese men and their views on large families. Not of Tatiana and her ability to make him flush every time she opened her mouth with her talk of Anastasia. Most definitely not of Alexei, who had been bright and happy and a child destined for great things. Nicholas and Alexandra, as well, with their casual warmth and grace and protectiveness of their children.

And certainly, he did not want to think of Anastasia. The very thought made his heart ache deep inside his chest.

"Four Brothers is up a ways more," the man said as he pulled the car into park, glancing nervously around the darkened trail they rode on. "But I ain't goin' no closer."

"That's fine. I'll walk," Kurando answered curtly, sliding out of the car. He supposed parting with his reluctant companion was better for himself all around. In the case the man had it in his mind to mention him to others.

As Kurando slid into the shadows the man called out, "I won' be 'ere when you get back!"

Of course, that was a frivolous statement. Kurando had already expected as much. But he would deal with his lack of transportation after he was finished in Four Brothers. Nothing else mattered save this one moment.

Silently, Kurando forged ahead.

--&--

Alexei slumped against her, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he clung to her waist. His head bounced a little raggedly against her ribs.

"I don't feel good," Alexei muttered as he shifted himself more fully against Anastasia's body. His legs moved him, but he only kept going onward by Anastasia's urging.

His sister worried her lip, glancing down at her paling brother. From her position she couldn't decide on the true cause of his discomfort, but his pallor were flashes back to a horrible time when Alexei had suffered from a great sickness. A sickness that had driven her mother to near madness with grief. A sickness that had caused her entire family to break under the terror it wrought.

But she reminded herself that Alexei had been cured. His hemophilic disease had loosened its deadly hold on his blood. It was the one thing Gregori Rasputin had done right, though in all actuality it had been a mere ploy to gain himself the Empress's favor.

Still… Alexei _had_ been cured. She had to cling to that.

_Let him just be tired, let him just be tired, let him just be tired,_ she chanted in her mind, holding Alexei even closer to her body, trying to allow some of the warmth seeping out from her embroidered gown to fill his shaking body.

"It's okay, Alexei. We're okay," she murmured, running her fingers the sides of his face. She noticed with a certain amount of relief that Alexei's ear was no longer bleeding from his bullet graze. That meant his blood was clotting.

Which meant he was merely exhausted.

"Where are we going, Natsya?" Alexei asked dreamily, casting his eyes toward the star-stubbed sky. The blood that still marred his hands no longer bothered him. He was too tired to care.

"I don't know, Alyosha," Anastasia replied, trying to sound confident even as her heart gave one painful lurch in her chest. "I don't know…"

All she knew was that they had to get away from the soldiers they had killed. Away from the Bolsheviks. Other than those two, meager facts resonating in her mind she knew nothing else.

And she was so tired.

Shaking her head roughly, Anastasia guided Alexei out of the woods and onto the dirt road. She couldn't be sure how far they were from Ekaterinburg but she could only think of that town to return to.

_Then what, Anastasia?_ a voice mocked her lightly. _Then what will you do?_ All her insecurities and worries rose up in her throat. Yes, then what? The Bolsheviks were sure to find out that she and Alexei had escaped. They wouldn't just leave them alone.

With a considerable amount of dread, Anastasia realized that both she and Alexei would have to disappear from the world if they were to survive in it.

But where could they possibly go? They two, the heirs to a fallen dynasty.

Perhaps Wales. Roger Beacon would surely welcome them. Or Florence since Carla had seemed like a friendly enough sort. Le Havre was always a possibility as well, since she knew Joachim had surrogate family there.

With a certain amount of wistfulness she thought, _Japan… _

Japan, however, was much too far away for them to merely walk to. Not in their condition. Once the sun arose to hearken the new day, their state—the blood on their clothes and skin—would invoke many questions. And Alexei wasn't nearly strong enough to make a trip to Japan.

No. First they would have to find a place to hide, friends to take them in. Then she would send word to Kurando.

"Sis," Alexei mumbled tiredly against her side, motioning his sluggish arm in front of them. "Look."

Anastasia saw what Alexei pointed to. It was a man, wiry and long, marching quietly toward them. In the darkness she could make out nothing more than his baggy clothes and his tall stature, but it put dread into her heart.

More Bolsheviks. And they were going to kill both her and Alexei this time. They wouldn't let them play dead again.

Nearly sobbing with terror, Anastasia tightened her hold on her brother and turned, preparing to flee. She didn't know where, but all she knew was that she must not allow anyone to touch Alexei.

But then the man called out to her.

"Anastasia!"

And she knew that voice. She _knew_ that voice.

Her knees all but buckled with a sudden, deeply intense relief. She turned back around to face the young man as he drew closer, the moonlight playing across his smooth, handsome features.

"Kurando," she breathed, her relief overriding her surprise. Her heart leapt in joy and she nearly gagged on it. Instead, it poured out from her eyes in the form of salty, salty tears.

Kurando, here. Was it even possible?

He approached them carefully, trying to school his face into a mask of comfort. But he could barely manage it. He was sickened, horrified, at the sight before him.

Alexei and Anastasia, two of the brightest people he had ever known, stood before him pale and trembling, covered in blood and the gods knew what else. And they looked at him as if he were some specter they had conjured up.

"Anastasia," he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm once more. "Anastasia?"

"Kurando," she uttered and there was so much relief in her voice that he blinked. "Oh, Kurando."

Then both bodies slumped against him, leaving Kurando to stumble back over their surprising weight. But he caught and held them both, cradling their bodies against him, trying to detect how much damage had been done to them.

From what he had been able to see in the moonlight both Anastasia and her brother had been coated in blood. Their clothes, both on the lighter side of the shaded spectrum, had been splashed with dark crimson and, as he shifted them more fully into his arms, he saw that both Romanovs had blood on their hands as well.

What had Anastasia…?

Kurando refused to think on it further. Whatever Anastasia had done, she had done it to survive. And that was all he wanted to know.

If he thought too deeply on the subject, he knew he would lose control and do something drastic, like wage war against the Bolsheviks himself.

Already he could feel the need for violence coursing through him. At his inner most core, Kurando's true desire was to seek out the soldiers who had marred Anastasia's beautiful face with blood and make them experience what she had felt, intensified to a level in which they would _beg_ for death.

With deep, carefully controlled, breaths he battled the emotions down. Anastasia's solid weight in his arms was a help, working as anchor on the dark thoughts that rose up hard within him.

Though on some levels, the need to avenge all that Anastasia and Alexei had been put through were indeed his emotions, Kurando was not foolish even to believe they were his alone.

The seal that had been containing Jutendouji inside his body had been unlocked three years earlier and the spirit of the ogre now had a presence in Kurando's mind just as the moon goddess Tsukiyomi did.

But unlike the calming spirit of the goddess, the ogre seemed to embody the darker emotions that Kurando felt. His lust and desire, anger and hate, bloodlust and need for violence. Jutendouji himself was not a creature of evil, but merely a primitive one, where everything began and ended with a sword and urges.

Saki had said that Kurando's life from the point after his seal had been broken would be a struggle to control the beast within him and he had come to see the truth in her words. Now. He felt the steely grip of the ogre on his heart, tightening, tightening, tightening.

For a moment he almost drowned in it. The ogre almost won. He felt his control over the beast inside him weaning, wavering.

Anastasia sighed in his arms, her breath catching a little in sudden pain.

Strangely enough, even the ogre inside him quieted at the sound of Anastasia's distress. Kurando understood that Jutendouji's main concern was Anastasia, even if he lusted for the blood of those who had caused her pain. Jutendouji was merely an extension of Kurando's emotions and wants and so Jutendouji wanted only to defend and claim Anastasia as his own but could only do so in those primitive ways he knew.

Jutendouji would put all else aside to keep Anastasia safe—even his urge of violence and destruction—because in his mind Anastasia was his.

Shifting Anastasia and Alexei more fully into his arms, Kurando shuffled down the dirt road. He wasn't sure how he was going to get them to safety, but right now he knew he just had to get them as far from the mining site as he could.

And, surprise of all surprises, the man Kurando had hired to take him to Ekaterinburg, and then to the Four Brothers, was still waiting for him.

With a small, jerky shrug, the man told a wide-eyed Kurando, "I jus' wanted ta see if any of 'em were okay."

Okay wouldn't be how Kurando would describe Anastasia and Alexei, but he was too relieved to care or correct the man.

"'At the youngsters?" the man questioned as he approached, reaching for Alexei. For a moment, Kurando nearly recoiled but forced his death grip on the young boy to loosen. "'Ey look pretty banged up."

"They need tending to," Kurando returned and the man nodded.

"'Ere's room in the back," he said as he shifted Alexei into his arms. "Ya can look at 'em there. But right now, we gotta go."

"Thank you," Kurando said as the man kicked up the door to the back of the car.

There was another wiry shrug from the man. "Ain't like I'm doin' for you," he answered and glanced down at the little boy he had in his arms. "Suppose I was more against killin' little ones than I thought."

The man backed off and hurried around for driver's door. As tenderly as he could manage, Kurando gathered Anastasia into his arms and slid into backseat.

In the cover of predawn, the car took down the road.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

A **link** to a lecture on the bodies discovered at Four Brothers is available on my profile (the link works this time) and it is also available in a downloadable Microsoft Word document. There you can study all the bodies recovered and make your own conclusions at who is missing in the group.

The reason why I chose to have **Alexei Romanov** survival was based on the fact that Alexei's body was never recovered from the Romanov family's gravesite. Two bodies were missing from the gravesite, one believed to be either Anastasia or Maria and Alexei. Though, historically, the possibility of Alexei surviving that night is virtually impossible. Alexei had suffered a stroke brought on by his hemophilia and could barely walk when his family was shot down. However, I chose to let him leave (after debating long and hard over it) because… well, I wanted him to live and give a _Shadow Hearts_ explanation as to why Alexei's body was never recovered.

In Bolshevik reports on the murder of the Romanovs, the soldiers did attempt to **burn** the bodies of the Romanovs. However, it took too long and the soldiers stopped. Whether or not they managed to burn any body is unknown, but it is believed that they manage to burn successfully two bodies before giving up. Some historians believe that it was Alexei and Anastasia's bodies who had been burned and that was the reason why they were never recovered from the gravesite.

The **Four Brothers** was a series of intricate mineshafts just a few miles outside of Ekaterinburg. The mineshafts were dug deep into the earth and were nearly impossible to navigate. Originally, the Bolsheviks buried the bodies in the forest, just outside the mines, and left. Later the next day rumors began to circulate about the Romanov exaction and the bodies were moved and sealed in a mineshaft in the Four Brothers.

Alexei suffered from **hemophilia**, as disease he received from his maternal grandmother Victoria. This made it all but impossible to have survived the execution. However, it is noted in _Shadow Hearts: Covenant_ that Rasputin "cured" Alexei of his disease. I chose to that this literally and have Alexei cured completely of his disease. Which means it won't ever be a problem. Mostly because I don't want to have to deal with that problem in this story—and because I want Alexei to live.

**reviews**

**crazycutie2:** thanks. The Romanov murders were difficult to write, even though it had to be done. I wanted them all to live but, you know, that isn't how history went and this fanfiction is (attempting) to be historically accurate.

**DarlingKittystar:** thank you! Alexei was just far to cute to kill, really. I mean, could you kill _that_ face? Plus, if there's even a chance that Alexei might have survived, then he's surviving in my book. Anastasia, too! I'm nearly obsessed with the Romanovs. There are so many unanswered questions, so many 'what ifs', that will never be answered. It fascinates me.

**Suzuno Oosugi:** last chapter was extremely intense. That's why I decided to leave it off at a cliffhanger. I didn't want to clutter it up with extra stuff, when the focus needed to be on the massacre of the Romanov family.

**keigojin:** oh yes, if the murder of your entire family doesn't traumatize you then there's something wrong with you. But Anastasia's also a terribly strong person—in SH:C anyway—and you can bet she's going to endure. She's a survivor.

**Tiger5913:** luckily for Anastasia and Alexei things are happening way to quickly for them to really pause and comprehend. And we also have to trust in both Kurando and their inner strength to help Alexei and Anastasia survive the horror of the deaths of their families.

**Yuuka Yagami:** I loved how Anastasia was portrayed in SH:C. They made her so strong and sassy! That's why I made Kurando late. Anastasia isn't the kind of girl who needs a man riding into her rescue, she can take care of herself. And she's willing to prove it.

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** wow, I'm glad that no one's had a negative reaction of Alexei's survival. I was afraid some history buffs were gonna beat me over the head with my own computer XD

**AngelicProfile:** I always get so embarrassed when people compliment me on my writing skills. Can't help it. Anyway, a lot of this history is taken for granted or exaggerated or cut. I like to think I got the major things done pat, but there are some things I chose to overlook to make this story work…


	5. Escape Hatch

**Disclaimer:** the lambs… you make them scream

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanovs are marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov

**Author's Notes:** okay, this is a number of days earlier than my planned update. I had this week off so I got this chapter done. Also, I'm not going to be near a computer all next week so there would be no updating and this would be late. And that makes me sad. I really don't like to _miss_ my self-imposed deadlines, you know.

I need to stop listening to depressing music when I write this stuff. Tori Amos (especially her _Yes, Anastasia_ song) is not a woman you should be playing when you plan to write happy endings. Is that woman ever happy? Ah, but I love her.

Also, ever notice how must fictional works of art based on Anastasia end happily? I just saw the animated _Anastasia_ on HBO this week and then I went out and rented the Ingrid Bergman _Anastasia_ movie for no good reason. Yeah, sure neither of them really chose to be "The" Anastasia, but they both loved happily ever after with the hot conmen of their choice, right? Right. I liked the animated _Anastasia_ more but only because I'm a sucker for musicals. But the Ingrid Bergman has my favorite line from a movie _ever_.

"I will tell them the play is over, now go home". Saddest line ever said, because then you just stare at the back of the regal Dowager Empress Maria, who has just lost her granddaughter Anastasia _again_. Saddest damn thing ever. I cried. I never cry. Never. Sobbed like a baby.

* * *

_/Chapter Five: Escape Hatch /  
_**"The thing about ****St. Petersburg**** I was never there myself  
****(So come on Yeah come on)  
****Anastasia cried all night But I couldn't save myself  
****(So come on Yeah come on)"  
**-"Good Idea at the Time" Ok GO

* * *

Kurando was well aware the man driving the car away from the Four Brothers was hyperventilating and most likely wishing he had never stuck around to offer to help Kurando with the Romanov children in the first place.

No one wanted to be on the bad side of the Bolsheviks.

But Kurando had his own concerns at the moment. And they were in the form of two skinny, Romanov children. Fallen nobility and orphans. The last heirs to the Romanov throne.

He frowned at his thought. Perhaps the statement was not entirely accurate. Nicholas had a brother, hadn't he? And there was always the Dowager Empress.

It didn't matter. With the slaughter of Nicholas II and his family, the dynasty that had governed Mother Russia for more than three hundred years was over and done with. Now the Bolsheviks—and this Lenin man—had everything they wanted.

Except the true deaths of Anastasia and Alexei Romanov and Kurando was determined to see that it remained that way.

Gently, he ran his fingertips over Anastasia's face. The blood the marred her cheek and chin had hardened and they chipped away with his gentle touch. Kurando wished he had some sort of washcloth to wipe the blood away.

Right now, though, he had to make sure there were no fatal wounds on the two limp bodies.

Cupping Anastasia's shoulder he lifted her up. He was kneeling in the small gap between the back of the front seats and the cushions of the backseats. Anastasia was propped up against the door on the left, her brother on the right.

The young princess gave a small groan of pain, trying unsuccessfully to shift away from his hands as he lifted her up. Gnawing on his lip in slight worry, Kurando eased the very top of her dress off her right shoulder, noting with thick distaste that it appeared as if bullets had shredded the soft fabric.

He cursed richly—and in thick Japanese—when he saw the bloody wound on Anastasia's shoulder. He knew a bullet hole when he saw one—he had procured enough during his short life—and for a moment he couldn't control the urge the kill for all the damage that had been done to this precious woman.

Instead, he concentrated on the relief he felt when he saw that Anastasia wasn't _bleeding_ from her wound. It was marred and torn but there was no steady follow of blood leaking out from her shoulder.

Very slowly, he worked off his sleeve and tore it into long shreds. Holding Anastasia against his chest, Kurando bounded up her shoulder wound, murmuring in his native tongue when she gave a pained protest at his touch.

"Nothing's going to hurt you again," he told her, his voice soft and tender as he stroked one hand down her hair.

"Ah 'ere," the man called from the front seat, tossing Kurando a ragged piece of cloth. "It ain't much but you can clean them up with it."

With a small nod, Kurando got to work, tenderly wiping off the blood on Anastasia face and then moving to perform the same task for her brother. Alexei gave a small mumble, moving into his arms in some vain attempt to warm himself.

Looking down at the little boy, Kurando's heart twisted painfully. This had been the little whelp that had scampered after him, begging Kurando to teach him the samurai way, he was the boy who had managed to smile despite his disease and the knowledge that his kingdom was on the verge of collapsing.

Now he was bloodied and weakened, laying out against the tattered leather of a car.

"Are 'ey all right?" the man wanted to know.

"I don't know," Kurando answered truthfully. "I think they should be, though."

Beneath his hand, Alexei gave a small mumble of pain. Kurando's attention was quickly returned to the stirring boy. He cupped his thin shoulders and lifted him up, watching intently as Alexei's green eyes fluttered open.

Garnet and emerald meet as Alexei turned his pale face to the samurai who had saved him. "Kurando?" he breathed in recognition. A small, shaky smile bloomed across his mouth. "The letter was right. You did come."

"Of course," Kurando replied but couldn't manage a smile. "Are you alright?"

That was the wrong thing to say to the little boy. The smile fell away instantly and his face crumbled. Big, pearl-sized teardrops slashed down his cheeks as he wheezed in a breath, hands shaking to form a fist.

"They killed them," he choked out, lifting his fisted hands to push them against his face, almost bitterly scrubbing at his cheekbones. "Mama and Papa… and the Big Pair… and Maria. They killed them all and Anastasia, she saved me. But we—we had to—and I couldn't." Helplessly he looked at his bloody hands.

Kurando made no claim to be a master in the art of soothing, especially a child's misery, but he knew that he couldn't stand the broken look in Alexei's eyes as he stared at his hand, marred with the effort it took him to survive.

Wordlessly, he cradled Alexei in his arms, once again disgusted at how tiny the boy was. Kurando had always been tall for his age, but at thirteen boys were normally yards bigger and taller than Alexei. But Kurando held him all the same, rocking him like a baby as Alexei sobbed.

"They killed them," Alexei sobbed brokenly into his shoulder. "All of them and I—I couldn't do anything. I heard them. I heard them screaming and screaming and _screaming_ and they just kept on killing them."

In the driver's seat, the Russian man lowered his head to the steering wheel and cursed in profound and profane slang. Though Kurando couldn't understand any of it, he was inclined to agree all the same.

"I'll take ya ta Omsk," the man said when Alexei's sobs softened to animalistic whimpers. "Ya can get the train 'ere and get 'em to Japan. 'Ere's also coats in ta trunk ya can use for ta… er… well… ya know."

Yes, Kurando did know. The bloodstains on Alexei and Anastasia.

Alexei shifted out of Kurando's grip and rubbed furiously at his eyes, trying to bank the tears the still wanted to flow. Kurando understood it. Alexei was now the oldest _male_ Romanov and, as strong as Anastasia was, Alexei had no doubt been instilled that it was nevertheless his duty to be the strongest.

"Is she going to wake up?" Alexei asked, reaching over to touch his sister's still face.

"She needs rest," Kurando answered and Alexei gave a nod, biting his lip. When he glanced up at Kurando, his eyes were wet with tears.

"She saved me, Kurando. When they… she jumped in front of me and she saved me." Alexei crawled over to Anastasia and lowered his head to Anastasia's breast, closing his eyes. "She took the bullets meant for me and then we escaped together."

The tiny prince was so exhausted he fell asleep on top of his sister.

Leaving Kurando to look on in awe at the strength of the Romanov children.

--&--

Alexei slept all of six hours before he was up. And he was up for the rest of the car ride, chatting mostly to just fill the void of silence that stretched out. Kurando wasn't one for talk all that much and the Russian man put Alexei on edge.

_Anastasia still hasn't woken up,_ Kurando thought and was sour with it.

She just lay out in the backseat, pale and caught in the haggard hands of sleep. She moaned out sometimes, hands clenching and unclenching into fists as she fought invisible demons.

Kurando was tempted to wake her up, but he didn't know what she had been through and was unsure if she would be able to cope with everything unless she garnered as much as sleep as she could. Even Alexei was sketchy on the details and he grew so pale when the subject was brought up that Kurando made a silent vow to avoid it at all costs.

So all he could do was wait for her to wake up. It felt like everything was happening in slow motion around him. It should, by now, be a feeling Kurando had grown accustomed to. But he hadn't and he was antsy for Anastasia to wake up.

He wanted to be able to look into her eyes and see the Anastasia he loved inside them. He wanted to assure himself that she was still breathing, that she was unharmed, that she was still everything he needed and wanted.

Then she did wake up. She woke up screaming.

It was as if she had awoken still believing herself to be in the hands of the Bolsheviks. Her hands were thrust out, curling into fists, and her eyes were dark and glazed with fear. Her scream had been so loud and piercing that she almost caused the Russian man to drive them all off the road.

"'Natsya!" Alexei cried, twisting around in the front seat to peer over at his sister. He caught his lip with his teeth as Anastasia wheezed out a breath.

"Anastasia," Kurando as said gently as he could, as tenderly as he could, despite the fact that his heart pounded hard and wild in his chest. He caught her wrists and lowered her shaking fists. "It's me."

"Kurando?" she breathed, much in the same way her brother had. Only, her voice had a certain lit to it Alexei's lacked. "You came."

"Of course." He reached out and cupped her face. "Of course."

With a small sob, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her hands around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. And, unlike when Alexei had done the same thing, Kurando found himself gripping her just as tight. He hooked his arms around her waist, hauling her tiny body up against his much longer one. He buried his face into her soft hair—it was still soft, after all she had gone through, and that amazed him—and resisted the urge to shake like she was.

Holding her was enough, for now.

As for Anastasia, the presence of Kurando, and the feeling of being in his arms, was going a long way in calming her down. Her mind still flashed with those horrible, blood-filled images of the death of her family, but she felt safe and secure with the feeling of Kurando's arms tight around her.

She buried her face against the soft fabric of his shoulder and surprised herself when she didn't feel like crying.

"It's alright, Anastasia," he told her, brushing his lips against her hair. "I'm going to take you away from Russian. You and Alexei. I promise."

Alexei, for his part, watched the exchange between his sister and Kurando with silent, gauging eyes.

"I can't believe they… Kurando." She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. And it was such a painful that Kurando almost turned away. But he didn't. He could only hold her gaze. "They killed them. The Bolsheviks, killed my family."

"I know," he answered, his own voice painfully tight. All he could think: _if it had been my mother…_ but he stopped the trail of thoughts. The rage was nearly uncontrollable. "I'm sorry I wasn't there fast enough."

Anastasia shook head and managed a shaky smile. "You're here now," she observed. She turned her head and brother and sister met and held their matching eyes. "How are you, Alexei?"

"A—alright," Alexei replied, biting even harder on his lip. "Anastasia, I'm—"

Cutting him off, Anastasia reached out and held his hand tight in her own, squeezing it reassuringly. Then, with her free hand, she wrapped her arm around Kurando's neck.

"We're together," Anastasia Romanov said and looked up at Kurando Inugami.

_She knows,_ Kurando thought, trying not to look defeated. _She has to give it all up. Russia. Being a Romanov. Her throne. She knows. _

Once again, he was awed by the Romanov strength.

Both Alexei and Anastasia ceased to be the Romanov heirs. He felt the weight of the name drop from them. The throne that the world had coveted for so long was now washed away in blood, taking the Romanovs like the victims of a shipwreck into a sea of death and pain, and Kurando was their only pillar in the flood.

They were connected, he realized, pressing his arms tighter around Anastasia.

Like a circle.

--&--

He was taking them to Inugami Village. Anastasia knew that without Kurando having to say anything. To Kurando, all things began and ended with his village. It, she often admitted to herself, was a sentiment she could completely understand.

Or, used to understand.

She had no country. No beloved Motherland. The Motherland had wanted to kill her. And the bullet wound in her shoulder was testament to how close it had come to succeeding.

Now all she could do was go forward with Kurando.

They were going to Omsk. That was what Kurando had told her, motioning to the driver. Anastasia hadn't taken much stock in him. He was a little scruffy and looked like he would have rather been anywhere else.

Though she supposed she couldn't blame him. Helping fallen nobility with death warrants over there heads was bound to make anyone a little uneasy.

Everyone, of course, except Kurando.

Anastasia had never been to Omsk before. Before Yuri and his ragtag team had whisked her away to a life of adventure and danger, she had never been far from Petrograd. Before that fateful meeting that cold day in Russia, Anastasia had only gone as far as the Alexander Palace, a few miles outside of Petrograd.

Then, of course, she had been to Japan and Turkey and England and India. She had seen things that would make the most well-traveled adventurer envious. She had done things that would make women swoon.

And yet, all of it had paled before her beloved Mother Russia. Anastasia had yearned for adventure, true, but in the end she had always seen herself in Russia. Russia was her home and her heart.

But not anymore.

"Are you alright, Anastasia?" Kurando asked, taking note of the slight frown on her face. She hadn't been speaking in her customary way. In fact, she had barely spoken at all, merely staring out the window of the car.

Secretly, it pleased her that he had taken to dropping the "Lady" in front of her name. It had taken Anastasia a good number of months to convince him to do so during their second journey together.

"Yes," she answered and managed a smile for him, but they both knew that she was too weighed down with her grief and rage.

_My family is dead,_ she thought and again felt like weeping—the pain and tears had begun to well up again once the numbness had started to wear off. She kept having such horrible flashes of that night in the Ipatiev House. Nicholas and Alexandra… Tatiana, Maria, and Olga.

It was too awful her to bear.

"I'm sorry," Kurando said very softly and she felt his hand grip hers. The connection gave her strength and she forced her grief down. There would be a time for her to cry for them properly. But not right now.

Right now she had to get out of Russia.

"Kurando… thank you," she breathed to him, careful not to alert Alexei to her grief. Her dear brother had taken to sitting in the front seat and, now that Anastasia had been roused from her slumber, silently stared out the window.

Alexei was trying to be strong for them, Anastasia knew, and her heart moved with equal parts grief and pride. Alexei knew that if he lost it and started to weep over their dead family then Anastasia wouldn't be far behind.

So Alexei did not cry.

Kurando wished Anastasia could speak to him of her pain, even though he understood her desire to lock it away for the moment. He wanted to soothe her, wanted to protect her. But he knew Anastasia would only feel safe once she and her brother were safely away from Russia.

Surely that thought pained her. During their tour of the world together, Kurando had witnessed the deep, profound love Anastasia had for her homeland. And he knew it ate at her to think that she had no choice but to flee from it.

All he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

"Anastasia—" he began again.

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, genuinely this time. Kurando released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. No, the Anastasia he had fallen in love with during the world tour had not been killed with her family. She was merely washed away in grief.

Perhaps one day she would return.

"'ere we are," the Russian man said, breaking the eye contact between Anastasia and Kurando. He parked his car on outskirts of the town, glancing over at the Russian princess. "Ya can get the coats from ta trunk and 'en get down to the train station. High tail it out of Russia, ya hear? I gots a feelin' it ain't gonna get too pretty from 'ere on in."

"Wait here," Kurando ordered gently, stepping out of the car. He walked around to the front and popped the hood, examining the numerous coats tucked away inside.

"Thank you," Anastasia said to the man.

"Yes, thank you," Alexei added.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Your Highness, I can't claim I was the biggest fan of ya family. But I ain't never wished 'em dead. And it don't… don't seem right to me with what 'em Bolsheviks did ta ya." He glanced over at Alexei and then at Anastasia. "Think of it as… ma penance."

Uncomfortable with his words, the man turned to the steering wheel.

Before Anastasia could decide what to say next, Kurando reappeared with two thick coats in his arms. He opened Alexei's door, and then Anastasia's. The two Romanovs hopped out and Kurando handed out the coats he had selected.

The man also got out of his car. "Ya didn't take one for yaself?" he questioned of Kurando. "I gots more'n enough."

"I'm fine," Kurando answered.

"Suppose none of them fit ya," the man muttered with a shrug. "You're a bit too tall."

The coats that now adorned the Romanovs' bodies were thick and shapeless and brown. Alexei was all but swallowed by big, brown overcoat. And Anastasia didn't help by buttoning the coat right up to Alexei's neck. Anastasia's coat was a near clone of Alexei's, though hers fit her better, but she had to roll up the sleeves several times before the coat sleeves reached her wrists.

"We'll start walking, Kurando," Anastasia told him, gripping Alexei's hand tight in her own. She shared a private look with Kurando, knowing very well he likely wanted to say his own thanks to the Russian man who had helped them.

As they started down, Kurando glanced over at the Russian man as he situated his hat more fully on his head.

"Thank you," Kurando told him. When the man didn't answer Kurando blinked and looked away. "I don't even know your name," he admitted.

"Probably best if'n it's kept that way," the man said. "Good luck."

That was when Kurando realized he and the man truly had nothing to more to say to one another.

He nodded to his one-time partner and started after Anastasia and Alexei. Kurando missed the man tip his hat in the direction of the Romanov children before getting back into his car and driving away.

"We should be able to get train tickets for today," Kurando answered as he slid into step beside Anastasia. "It takes about five days to get to China from here. From there we'll get a boat and go to Japan."

She nodded and smiled up at him and Kurando was relieved to see it, even though it was weighed down by her worries and her deep sadness. At least, Anastasia could still smile. That was something.

With Anastasia and Alexei looking as normal as they possibly could, Kurando bought the train tickets. With a small taste of irony, Kurando realized that if anyone stared at them it was because _he_ looked so out of place in Russia.

But everything would be easier once they reached China. Kurando would fit in there. China was a melting pot of cultures, though not always by its own choice. No one would blink twice at a Japanese young man escorting two European youths.

For now, he just had to blend in as best as he could.

Though, with the way everyone stared at him, it was likely he couldn't do it too well.

He ushered Anastasia and Alexei onto the train, careful to be on the watch for anyone who might realize just who Anastasia and Alexei were. He wasn't sure if news of their survival had been found out yet, or if the Bolsheviks were aware, but he wasn't willing to take chances.

They took seats at the back of the train. Alexei sliding in first, staring out the window. He glanced up at his sister as Anastasia managed a small smile for him.

Just as she took her seat beside her brother, a voice called, "Did you hear?"

It was two pampered ladies, wearing exaggerated magenta dresses and wild, feathered hats.

"Hear what?" the second lady asked as she and her companion stood beside their seats, people moving about around them as they twittered to each other like birds in the early spring.

"The Romanovs!" the woman all but shrieked, throwing a gloved hand into the air. "I heard the Bolsheviks killed them all!"

"No," a man corrected the woman as he brushed by. "The Bolsheviks said that they only killed the Tsar. The German and the children were taken out of the country."

"Pft," the first woman said with an incline of her chin. "The Bolsheviks are liars. They say took the family out of the country, but if you ask me they're just trying to keep the people quiet until they can come up with a good reason for their deaths!"

"But do you really think they actually _killed_ children?"

"The Bolsheviks said they hadn't," the man pointed out.

Kurando glanced at Anastasia and Alexei and felt his lips thin with grimness as he noticed their pale skins. Anastasia reached out and gripped Alexei's hand as he tensed with anger.

Then she shifted closer to Kurando and dropped her head weakly to his shoulder. Kurando hooked one hand around her waist and squeezed her hip reassuringly. _Everything's going to be alright. I'm here now. _

And they sat like that for a while.

--&--

Though it hadn't been his intention to, Kurando fell asleep, his body angled protectively over Anastasia's. Alexei was curled up against his sister's side like a helpless kitten, his fingers clenching at the thick coat.

Night drifted overhead, the moon reassuring them that the world would continue to move on, no matter how much it seemed had been lost. The lights of the stars danced over Kurando's dark head and bounced down to Anastasia's auburn hair, nestled peacefully against Kurando's side.

He wasn't sure what awoke him that night. The train moved silently through the countryside, the gentle vibrations of its metallic wheels on the steel train tracks nothing sort of soothing.

All the same Kurando found himself wide awake as the midnight hour fell upon him.

Taking a deep breath and steadying sudden nervous that fluttered up his throat, Kurando glanced down at Anastasia. The beautiful, young princess had her chin reclining on his shoulder, her lips parted slightly.

It was a tempting sight, he had to admit. There was a tiny voice inside him that urged him to bend his head down and take Anastasia's lips with his own, as he had dreamt of during for a year now.

But a stronger part of him just wanted to hold her and he contented himself with that. Anastasia was not ready yet to deal with any other form emotion save her grief.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from bending down and brushing his lips along her forehead.

_So beautiful, Anastasia. So soft_, he thought and allowed his hold on her to tighten for a tantalizing moment. Anastasia gave a breathy sigh and moved even closer into him, which did little for Kurando's resistance.

There was no doubt in his mind—nor had there been for a year—that Anastasia was the woman he wanted to stand by his side for the rest of his days and, looking down at her, Kurando hoped the day to tell her so would come soon for he was not sure how much longer he could stand to wait.

Suddenly, the train halted. The nerves that had been dancing lightly in his stomach broke out into a heady tango.

Anastasia, whose chin was jarred hard on Kurando's shoulder, awoke with a small moan, glancing up at Kurando and flushing at their close quarters. However, Kurando missed her reaction as he was too busy concentration on the door in the front of the train.

"What is that, do you think?" a man asked just as the door slid up.

Beside him, Anastasia went taut and Kurando was blinded by his rage for a moment before he ruthlessly controlled it.

It was a Bolshevik soldier, decked out in full regalia with a rifle clenched at his side. Kurando gauged the soldier and had no doubt he could kill the man with a few expert slashes of his sword, but he wanted to spare Anastasia and Alexei the sight.

To calm and reassuring her, Kurando slid his hand down and laced his fingers with Anastasia.

"Two fugitives of Mother Russia are said to be fleeing the country. Your train to China is being delayed so we may investigate for the fugitives," the soldier explained in perfect monotone.

_Fugitives?_ Kurando thought and worked down a snarl. _Is that all they are now? _

Gasping a little, Anastasia clamped her hand hard on Alexei's as the young boy moved to jump to his feet. Kurando moved his head to the side slightly to watch the boy battle with the rage in his eyes, his cheeks flushed and his hand shaking in his sister's grip.

Tediously, the soldier went through each train seat, his eyes scanning each person there for his 'fugitives'.

Kurando knew they were looking for Anastasia and Alexei and his slid his free hand down to touch the handle of the Mumeiro. He didn't want to shed blood in front of Anastasia and Alexei—after what they had seen—but he would if he needed to. Kurando would do anything to keep them safe.

In the primitive level, Kurando was protecting his territory. Anastasia was his and Alexei was hers.

The soldier came to their seats and Kurando lifted his garnet gaze to the soldier, silently daring him to recognize Anastasia and Alexei. The rage for what the Bolsheviks had done to the Romanov siblings burned bright and hot in his chest and Kurando knew he could cut through the entire Red Army in that moment.

Alexei hissed out a breath, turning his head toward the window. Rage shimmered in his green gaze much in the same way it burned in Kurando's. He wanted to vengeance on the Bolsheviks as much as Kurando did, more so even. But he knew that he wasn't nearly strong enough to win.

Like Kurando, Anastasia lifted her eyes to the Bolshevik soldier. The rage that she felt was quiet inside her chest and she managed to keep it from her eyes. These men had killed her family. Maybe not personally, but the Bolsheviks were all the same to her.

She wanted to tear them apart, shed their blood like they had shed hers and her family's.

Instead, she merely tightened her hold on Kurando's hand.

The Bolsheviks sent one last long down Kurando's length then turned away. "Nothing," he called out to another guard at the front of the train and exited through the door.

All three of them released a breath when the soldier disappeared from their view. Anastasia slumped against Kurando, her grip on his hand slackening and her body shaking slightly with tremors.

"Are you alright?" Kurando asked softly, turning to Anastasia and touching her shoulder reassuringly. Anastasia managed a small nod.

"I hate them," Alexei breathed, his hand still held tightly in Anastasia's. "I hate them all." He looked over at Kurando and saw that the older man shared his feelings. Alexei nodded once to Kurando and pulled his hand free from Anastasia's.

With a great, heaving sigh Kurando leaned against Anastasia and gathered her close. He was going to have to take Alexei under his wing and show the young Romanov boy how to fight and delegate and rule or Alexei would never forgive himself. Kurando had seen it in the boy. While Alexei hated the Bolsheviks, he was disgusted with himself for not being strong enough to do something with that hate.

Kurando would have to help Alexei get passed his self-disgust or the boy would destroy himself.

First, though, he had to get Anastasia and Alexei to Japan. Everything else would have to happen later. All Kurando could concentrate on now was seeing that no Bolsheviks realized he had the 'fugitives' traveling with him.

Glancing at the young Romanov survivors, Kurando made his silent promises to each. To protect, to teach…

And, of course, to love.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

An interesting historical fact is that the Romanovs were all actually very, very **short**. The tallest person in the Romanov household was, in fact, Alexandra. She was several inches taller than her husband. All the girls were on the shorter side—with Anastasia notably shorter than all of them—and Alexie never grew into his body because of his disease. Nicholas II, usually painted by most people (including the _SH:C _team) as a strapping older man. In fact, he was short and suffered from brittle bones, slowly bending do to his constant horseback riding.

The **Dowager Empress** was not killed with her son and his family because she had not been in Russia at the time. Also, she no longer had any claim to the throne. After the murder of her oldest son the Dowager Empress retired to Paris where she lived out the remainder of her life. She never returned to Russia.

A sad, but true fact, was that due to the war and Russia's internal state of affairs, the **Romanovs** (save Nicholas on his war tours) never did get to adventure outside Russia or go on tour of the world. Olga, Tatiana, and Maria visited other places of Russia during the start of the early war, but they drew back to Petrograd as the war worsened. Tatiana also suffered from a nervous breakdown. By the time Anastasia was old enough to travel the war was too dangerous and Alexei was too sickly. Sadly, Anastasia saw only the outside world when she was forced in exile with her family.

When the Romanovs were first murdered, the Bolsheviks **falsely leaked** that only Nicholas II had been executed and that the Empress and her children had all be evacuated out of the country, mostly because Lenin was aware that the people would not be pleased to learn innocent children had been killed and he did not yet have a foothold in his future government.

One of the reasons that many believe that Anastasia (or her sister Maria) **survived** their execution was because of the rumor that Bolshevik soldiers were stopping trains and looking for "someone". A fugitive, they said, but this helped many people claim to be Anastasia, often using a train as part of their escape tale.

**Next Chapter:** if you thought the emotional turmoil of the Romanov siblings were over, you were wrong. They just needed to get out of Russia first…

**Reviews**

**Riana1:** I try to be as realistic as possible when it comes to Anastasia and Alexie's reaction. Obvious something like this has never personally happened to me and I can only assume. That's why they didn't break done in this chapter. I think, at this point, Anastasia and Alexei would know to focus on escape Russia.

**Suzuno Oosugi:** it was something that I picked up in Shadow Hearts: Covenant. Usually most of the people you fight in battles are monsters or look like monsters. Or they're truly, truly evil at their core. None of our villains actually seemed to be just a poor sap fighting for the wrong side. Not even Kato when we finally get to him. Even poor old Nicolai turns into a monster the two times you fight him because than you're not fighting Nicolai the Human but Astraroth the Monster.

**MusicalDragons:** aw, I dun wanna make anyone cry! But… at least I'm pulling the emotion off then. I _tried_ to kill Alexei off, really! I honestly had the chapter written up were he dies from blood lost in Anastasia's arms, and then he just dies in his father's arms like he historically does, and then Alexei bitch-slapped me and said he wanted to leave and I damn well better make him live. So I did.

**crazycutie2:** oh, yes, Kurando's a stone in my mind. A steady, ever-fast stone. Anastasia, I found—even in Shadow Hearts: Covenant—is fleeting and bright and wonderful and too easily dampened. That's why I like them as a pairing. In my mind, Kurando's able to protect what is the makes Anastasia that beautiful, fragile thing she is while Anastasia can make that cold, hard world Kurando forces himself to exist in a little brighter. Oh, I could rant and rant and rant about them using such flowering language… hell, I might even write a ship manifesto for them over at livejournal (maybe, I dunno).

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** yes, I think that's why I first got obsessed with the Romanovs. You look at them in pictures, they're this normal family, smiling and happy and doing things that any other person would do with they families. They're all so _young_ and ordinary and it's wonderful and unique. They story is truly tragic not because it was the end of a dynasty but because these were normal people you could very well know that were forced in a situation most of us cannot even image. What did Alexei feel? He must have known. Olga, ever the smart one, surely did. And she would have told Tatiana. Maria would have been quiet and soft and supportive. There would have been Anastasia, the prankster of the family, doing whatever she could to make them smile. And then there's Nicholas and Alexandra, eternally in love, up in the ranks of tragic love affairs, the Anthony and Cleopatra of their time… and they're just dead. Like that. Blink… and I'm rambling. I hate when I do that. Oh, and **Aloysha** and **Natysa** are affection nicknames for Alexei and Anastasia, respectively. Nickname information is somewhere in a pervious chapter.

**DarlingKittyStar:** it's funny because I can actually imagine the conversation. Funny and scary. "I'm just trying to be historically accurate!" "Screw history, we want Kurando/Anastasia kissage now! hax0r!1!" And that's scary. And (see above rants) what's not to love about the Romanovs? I've said it before, Anastasia is my _second_ favorite historically figure, and her family follows close behind. My first is Theodore Roosevelt… and it's creepy because I'm probably the only Theodore Roosevelt fangirl in the entire world.


	6. Reset Button

**Disclaimer:** nope. I'm just a poor, poor retail worker. I own nothing.

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov.

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is probably my least favorite one. Not to say it's bad—I would never have posted it if it was—it just seems a little clustered to me. There was just so much that needed to happen in this chapter. Also, I wanted to start adding some Kurando/Anastasia stuff, but I still needed Anastasia to find some way to overcome her grief—or at least mostly—so in the end I ended up clumping a lot of stuff together that I would have normally drawn out. Eh. Sometimes you make sacrifices.

* * *

_/Chapter Six: Reset Button/  
_**"Beyond our wildest Russian dreams  
****Anastasia your veins, royal blue brittle chains  
****princess of ****Siberia**** the reds will let me be  
****the boy who weds, princess of ****Siberia****"  
**-"Anastasia", The Handsome Charlies

* * *

Five days later, Anastasia, Alexei, and Kurando found themselves in China.

Anastasia had her hand hooked through Kurando's arm and Alexei walked a ways ahead of them, taking in all the sighs and sounds of the melting pot of China.

"Every time I see it," Anastasia said of China to Kurando. "It just amazes me… all these different people, living together."

"Not peacefully," Kurando pointed out and turned to face Anastasia, a small, chivalrously smile on his lips. "Aren't you warm in that?"

She tugged the collar of her coat, smiling sheepishly. "I suppose. And I know it bothers Alexei." They both glanced at the small boy as he halted in front of cart, poking at the unique looking fish on display.

"Here." With a small smile, Kurando handed her half his funds. The smile was much easier then the ones he had been giving her because Kurando, for the first time since he had found her at the Four Brothers, felt like he could actually help Anastasia. "I can't image you like wearing the dress or that coat very much."

"No," Anastasia breathed and shut her eyes against the pain of remembering _why_. "But it was such a pretty… dress." She felt her eyes water with the memories. Her family, their deaths, killing the soldiers to survive.

_All that blood…_

"I'm sorry," Kurando uttered and held her in the circle of his arms, feeling brave enough to even rub his lips against her temple. "Anastasia, I—"

"It's not your fault, Kurando," Anastasia cut in, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying herself against him. She rubbed her nose against his shirt. "I… I feel _strong_ when your around. Really. I don't know what I'd do if, well, if you weren't here."

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her with a slight flush. He pulled away slightly so they could smile at one another. "I'll go buy the ship tickets. You and Alexei found some clothes, alright?"

"Okay." Anastasia watched him walk away and sighed deeply. Oh, there had been so much she had wanted to say then, to him. But with so many emotions and thoughts racing through her mind she understood that it would have to wait.

"Alexei!" she called, sweeping after her brother.

"What?"

She grabbed his wrists and pulled him away from the cart. "We're going to get new clothes." She noted a small, wooden shop a few feet away and made a mad dash to it. Suddenly, nothing sounded better to her than a new dress.

"Aw! I don't want to get new clothes!" Alexei protested, as was proper of curious fourteen year-old-boys. Anastasia sent him her best intimidating look.

"Trousers and a shirt, Alexei. Is that so much to ask?" Anastasia questioned as she shoved him into the shop. Alexei huffed and scuffed his feet against the wood good-naturedly.

"No. But with you, it'll take hours," he muttered and glowered at her as Anastasia stalked over to the women's section. "This stinks."

Anastasia ended up in the dressing room, frowning at herself in a full-body length mirror. She crinkled her nose in disgust, trying not to let her image bother her overtly. But it didn't work.

"Ouck," she muttered, pulling off the coat. She squeezed her eyes closed and pulled off her dress, fumbling a few times with the corset, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. Once she was naked, she slowly opened her eyes, chanting to herself over and over again to concentrate only on her image in the mirror.

_No wonder why Kurando acts so strange around me sometimes_, Anastasia thought as she stared at herself. Though she had braided her hair several times on their journey to China, she hadn't had a proper mirror to gauge its neatness and it was nothing more than a disheveled knot at the base of her neck. And her face was pale and fatigued, as well as covered in a little dirt.

_At least Kurando got the blood off. _

The minute the thought entered her mind Anastasia groaned in pain and rubbed furiously at her face until it was red from irritation and clean. She redid her hair, braiding it once more, using her fingers as a crude brush.

Then, at last, she wiggled into her new dress.

It wasn't something she normally choose to wear—and she almost missed the shapeless overcoat. It was a white shirt with long, loose sleeves and a tight, black bodice and a deep green, full-bodied skirt. No, it wasn't Anastasia's normal style at all but it was all that fit her.

Well, she probably could have purchased a kimono to wear but she hadn't wanted to—

Her hand stilled on her neck. _Kimono. The autumn kimono. _

And she felt like crying all over again. The autumn kimono—the gift from Kurando's mother, the symbol of her engagement to Kurando—had been with her all the way to the Ipatiev House but she hadn't thought to…

Anastasia took a deep breath and forced her mind from it. There was hardly anything she could do about it now. All she could do was go forward.

But she kept the Golden Angel, still tucked into a pocket on her dress. Then she turned to her most difficult task.

Bending down, closing her eyes, Anastasia began to rip out the diamonds that had been sown into her damnable dress's bodice. They felt heavy in her palms and some were crusted in her blood.

They were the last connection she had to her family and she was keeping them, no matter what.

The dress came with a small bag and she dropped all her diamonds into them, watching them shimmer and shine in the dark fabric before snapping the purse closed. Then she went out to meet Alexei, who she knew would be done by now.

When she came out of the dressing room, wearing the new dress, she saw that Alexei still carried the dagger she had given to him a week ago. It was in its sheath and hooked onto his new belt. Alexei wore simple, black trousers and a loose cotton shirt and it made him seem older than he really was.

She paid for their new clothes and felt guilty about leaving her dirty, bloody dress and overcoat on the dressing room floor.

"Let's go find Kurando," she told Alexei as they stepped outside into the dusty, hot roads of China. "He went to get our passes onto the boat."

"I've never been on a boat," Alexei said and his smile was much brighter than it had been in days. "Do you think I'll like it, Natsya?"

Choking down tears, Anastasia nodded and watched Alexei race ahead.

Kurando was waiting for them at the shipyard, arms crossed over his chest and face thoughtful. Anastasia, upon looking at him, realized that the removal of her dress had also eased some of the heaviness on her chest and when she smiled at him, she felt free.

The young Japanese man was at attention as soon as he noticed Anastasia and Alexei and when he looked at Anastasia there was a noticeable flush on his cheeks.

"You, ah, you look nice, Anastasia," he managed as he worked down his little blush of embarrassment. Anastasia felt herself returning it and even as her cheeks went red a small part of her was pleased she could still be embarrassed and flustered in front of the man she loved.

So she hadn't truly died that night. Not really.

Beside her Alexei gagged and Anastasia rapped him lightly on his arm.

"What's that?" Kurando asked suddenly, eyes brought downward to the small bag she clutched in her hands as if they were a lifeline.

"They're my diamonds," Anastasia answered and looked away when Kurando continued to stare at her. "I was wearing them… my sister sewed them into my dress."

"Oh," he answered and the darkening of his face told her that he understood exactly what she meant. One mystery of how Anastasia had survived that night had been solved silently in his head. "Do you want me to hold them?" Nodding, she handed them off to him. "Our ship leaves in a few hours. We could board now if you want."

"I've never been on a ship before," Alexei piped in. "Is it fun?"

"Only if you have a stomach for it," Kurando answered as he guided them toward their ship. Anastasia could see even from the distance that it was an old tanker that was rusting a little. "You might find yourself seasick."

"No, I won't be," Alexei said with confidence. "Anastasia never gets seasick and we have the same genes so I'll be fine." His green eyes were alight with curiosity and it made Anastasia's heart swell within her breast. "What's Japan like, Kurando?"

With a smile, Kurando told the young prince and Anastasia laced their fingers together.

It was time to start over.

--&--

Alexei had been right. He adapted to the sea life with little problem. And it was a relief to both Anastasia and Kurando because all three of them could spend all their time up on deck and not in their cramped cabin.

Though Anastasia was constantly ready for any emotional breakdown Alexei might become vulnerable to as their adrenaline settled down, she had little to worry about. Alexei was, still, a child and like a child he had the ability to put his grief at the back of his mind.

Anastasia was not so lucky. Every night she would awaken to find herself shaking with tremors from the nightmares that plagued her. Her screams would lodge in her throat and she would have to clamp her hand around her lips to stop them from breaking free and disturbing the two boys that slept near her.

As she fought off the recurring nightmares Anastasia would lay perfectly still in her bed and listen to the other two occupants breathing. Alexei slept above her, in the top bunk of their beds. She would reach up and touch the mattress just above her nose, listening to Alexei's steady breathing, and remind herself that she was safe.

Kurando slept on the floor beside the bunk beds as there was no room for him. He assured Anastasia that he was content to make a small cot on the floor with extra blankets. Anastasia knew that Kurando preferred it that way, as sleeping on the floor put him directly in front of the door and would require anyone to step over him in order to get in. She also knew that Kurando kept his Mumeiro poised at all times, positioned at the top of his head even as he slept.

But she didn't believe that she and Alexei were in danger anymore. They were out of Russia and the Bolsheviks had their own problems, like keeping the power they had ripped from her father.

The thought gave Anastasia another flash to her father being shot point-blank in the chest and Anastasia shivered, her body covered with a sheen of cold sweat.

Rolling over onto her back, Anastasia gave a small whimper of grief before stopping the emotions from flowing and forced herself back to sleep, unaware that Kurando was wide awake and listening.

He knew she suffered. He had known it since she had first awakened during their car ride to Omsk. Anastasia had had her family ripped from her and she had to kill to keep her brother alive. Those actions left scars, terrible and deep scars. It was no surprise that Anastasia woke during the night, gasping for breath and eyes glazed in terror.

Still, he wished she would talk to him of it. Kurando was not foolish enough to think that if Anastasia opened herself to him, she would be healed. No, he knew that the images branded into her memory were the kind that would linger on for years, but he wanted to help her in anyway he could.

What was more, he wanted to understand her. Kurando could only guess what had occurred in the basement of the Ipatiev House and her escape at Four Brothers. He wanted to know what Anastasia had had to do to save herself and Alexei, even as he dreaded the knowing. He knew that he would never find peace for being too late unless Anastasia opened to him and told him the things that haunted her.

Listening as Anastasia's breathing steadied Kurando was tempted to ask her to tell him of her nightmares. He nearly did, but he didn't want to breach her privacy or make her feel like she had to. He wanted Anastasia to open to him, on her own.

For now he would have to merely content himself with protecting and guarding Anastasia.

As he returned to a light sleep, Kurando knew it wasn't going to be enough.

--&--

It was early morning the next when Kurando found his chance to speak to Alexei privately. Anastasia would sleep until the late morning because of her fretfulness during the night while both Alexei and Kurando awoke with the sun.

Alexei slid out of his bunk bed and very quietly tiptoed passed Kurando. Kurando, however, heard him anyway but didn't say anything as the boy left the room. He gave Alexei a few minutes before he too roused himself.

Both boys dressed in an adjourning bathroom to save themselves from embarrassment—especially because they had a female companion who needed the privacy more so—and Kurando wanted to speak to the boy when they were both dressed and wide awake.

After Kurando had put on his traditional wear, he stepped out onto the deck to seek out Anastasia's brother.

The sky and the water were both red with the early rise of the sun and the large ocean liner was empty of passengers on the deck. Above him, Kurando heard the movements of the crew members. Glancing up at the tall crow's nest, he gave a small sigh and then went to find Alexei.

He found Alexei huddled in a long chair nailed to the planks of the ship. His knees were curled under his chin, his arms wrapped around them. His blue eyes were looking out toward the sea, his lips caught between his teeth.

Wordlessly, Kurando sat next Alexei and together they silently stared out into the ocean.

"Are you alright?" Kurando asked after a long moment of silence between them. He glanced over at the young boy.

The former Tsesarevich lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I guess," he answered and his voice cracked. He rubbed furiously at his lip when it quivered. "It's just… back in Russia when they… Anastasia saved me and I—I couldn't _do_ anything to—to help her." He looked helplessly over at Kurando. "I—I didn't even want to fight when she said w—we had to."

It was something Kurando could never understand. He had never been a helpless youth, but he understood Alexei had likely felt it his entire life. From the time his disease wrecked his blood to when he had had to look to Anastasia for protection and guidance, Alexei had never been strong enough to take the lead. And, if Alexei was anything like his sister, the strength for leadership was there.

The young boy before him felt helpless and weak when there was something thing inside him that was strong and deeply powerful.

And because of that, Kurando was determined to help Alexei become the man he wanted to be. "When we arrive in Japan," he told the young boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll teach you how to fight. I also sometimes go on diplomatic missions for my master. You will be welcomed to come with me."

"Honest?" Alexei breathed, a smile breaking his lips. The things Kurando offered him would allow him to be the man he had always yearned to be. Alexei had never told anyone but he had hated how Anastasia had been able to journey across the world when they had been younger and he hated how his sisters had always looked after him when all he wanted to do was look after himself.

"It is a promise," Kurando answered on a smile.

If Kurando taught him how to fight and took him on those diplomatic missions, then Alexei would be able to bloom. He knew it. He could become a man he was proud of, not one he was ashamed of. Anastasia would never again be forced to be strong for him, for he could be strong for himself.

"I want to be able to help my sister," he told the young samurai. "She's always looked after me, but I want to be the one who looks after her. Who can protect her… like you." Alexei's smile grew wide. Yes, he wanted to be like Kurando.

There was something he wanted to say to the boy. Something warm and soothing and comforting. Something that his father would have said. But Kurando knew—of course he knew; hadn't he too lost his father at a tender age?—that nothing would replace that deep, jarring hole that Nicholas II had left in his son's—and daughter's—heart.

But Kurando would be whatever he could for the boy. Confident, friend, ally… _brother_.

His hand fluttered nervously toward Alexei. And now that he felt Alexei's fears had somewhat been calmed, his own seemed to be working their way to the surface. "Alexei, about your sister—"

"I suppose I should ask you if you have honorable intentions toward Anastasia," Alexei cut in thoughtfully, and with his own secretive smile. "But I know you do."

Kurando nodded, not sure how he should handle the new situation. He had, of course, gone over the day many times when he met with Anastasia's father and asked for her hand formally and properly.

He knew of his engagement to Anastasia, of course. Though news of it hadn't passed neither his nor Anastasia's lips until well after Kato's death, he had recognized the autumn kimono and what it symbolized. At first, he hadn't been sure what to think. True, he wouldn't have called himself upset, just shocked. Very, very shocked.

Obviously, however, such shock had not lingered in his person for very long and once it was gone he recognized the fledging joy at knowing that one day, pretty-faced Anastasia would someday be his. That had intensified into some edge-honed desire since then.

No one knew much about the autumn kimono's important outside of Inugami Village, though, and Kurando knew that in order to secure Anastasia as his in both the eyes of his people and hers, a meeting with Nicholas II would have been neither.

Now such an action was impossible and Kurando assumed he would instead of to seek Alexei's agreement as the oldest male Romanov.

And—oddity upon oddity—Alexei had given it to him without the question ever having to be brought up.

Some people where just that lucky, Kurando knew, but he had never once dared to hope he was such a person.

"Talking about me?"

But before Kurando could consider the proper response to Alexei's nod to the match, Anastasia stepped toward them. Her face, though pale, had pinked pretty with the salty wind and a small smile curved her graceful lips.

Instantly, Kurando was on his feet, holding out a hand for her to steady herself. With a grateful shake of her head, Anastasia leaned into him. The bright stain appeared on his cheeks as well as tentatively put his arms around Anastasia dainty waist.

"Of course not," Alexei answered, never missing a beat. He winked at Kurando. "Kurando and me were just having man-words, weren't we?"

"Yes," Kurando agreed solemnly.

"Oh," Anastasia replied and they both watched as Alexei excused himself and went toward the opposite end of the ship.

"How are you?" Kurando wanted to know, noticing but saying nothing of the bags under her eyes.

With a hollow laugh, Anastasia just shook her head. "Stop worrying, Kurando," she replied, going for an airy tone but only succeeding in making herself sound more tired. "I'm fine," she added.

She wasn't and they both knew it. Suddenly unable to contain himself, Kurando lowered his head to her hair and inhaled deeply, causing Anastasia to twitter against him nervously. It was such a throwback to their younger years that Kurando had to smile at the pair of them.

Noted, of course, was the fact that he had never been so bold before. He supposed he would give it up to Anastasia's nature finally beginning to affect him.

"Honestly," Anastasia pressed.

All the same, she leaned against him and absorbed his warmth.

--&--

It was the scream that awoke Kurando.

Heavy with his own sweat from the heat of their cabin room, Kurando found himself sitting upright, sword in hand, his glazed eyes scanning the room for the threat. His breath hissed out between his lips and he forced himself to calm down and waited patiently for the noise again.

The scream did not come again, but he did become aware of small, mewling sounds, like an animal caught in a trap.

_Anastasia_, his mind breathed, curling her name in the sensual way it had grown accustomed to doing since their journey together.

She was having a nightmare. That much was obvious. Even from his position on the floor, he could see the little thrashes of her sheet as the fallen princess fought off her monsters, her breathing catching in her throat every so often as if she could never quite outrun her demons.

But the scream had been new. Kurando usually awoken at any sign of distress Anastasia made during the night, ready to leap to her aid—even if his sturdy, metallic sword could do nothing more than swat at air. He never went to her, of course, because his politeness had long ago deemed it improper to pry upon Anastasia's inner troubles, no matter how much a deeper part of him yearned to help her.

Even so he wasn't ready to simply lay back down and listen to Anastasia steady herself. This time Kurando was caught up in the adrenaline Anastasia's ripping screaming had given him and he was up before his etiquette could catch up to protest.

The young, auburn haired beauty had curled onto her side, her face buried in a pillow as she cried softly. Kurando had never had his heart break before, but he felt something akin to it now as he looked down at the pale form of the only woman he could claim to love.

No. He would not leave her alone tonight.

As gently and as softly as he could, Kurando bent down and drew the blanket away from Anastasia's neck. It was damp from her sweat and her tears and Kurando procured an immediate distaste for the thing. He swept it aside and sat down beside Anastasia, the mattress giving in at his weight.

Above him, there was a shifting from the bunk and Kurando held himself still as he felt Alexei move to the side of the top bed to peer down. Of course, Kurando was tempted to look up at him but he was more curious to see what exactly the boy planned to do.

There was another long moment of stretched silence and then Kurando heard Alexei gave a small sigh—a sigh that, Kurando would think later, sounded like a father giving away his daughter. The boy rolled back onto his bunk and was silent.

That was the moment when Anastasia flipped herself upward, her face taut with fear. Tears seeped out of the corner of her eyes, dashing down her cheeks, and across her lips, lips that were pressed in a hard line of anger.

Unable to stand such a sweet face contorted in such a horrid way, Kurando bent down so his lips were just beside her cheek and brushed a hand across her forehead.

"Anastasia," he breathed, allowing his tone to take a softer version of the lit it took in his mind. A lit that likely belonged to Jutendouji, but he didn't dwell on the fact that his primitive urges came from his seal.

And even if he had wished to, reminisce would have been impossible. At the touch of his cool hand to her hot forehead, Anastasia snapped away. Her body arched and flew upward, her mouth parted in a silent scream.

But Kurando was there to catch her.

His arms encircled her and he held her much in the same way he had when they had departed to Inugami Village after their battle with Kato. He ran one hand down—_possessively_, a vile voice said in his mind—down her back to soothe her.

"Kurando?" she whispered brokenly and he felt her hands come up to his shoulders and tightened on the fabric of his shirt. "Kurando?"

He murmured comfortingly into her ear. "You were having a bad dream, Anastasia. It was merely a dream."

Pain ripped through him as he felt Anastasia's hot tears on his neck. "I just—I keep _seeing_ them, Kurando. All of them." She drew away softly and withdrew one hand from his shoulder. With her eyes burning bright emerald in the dark, she clenched and unclenched her hand. "They all died."

"Tell me," he commanded and frowned when she merely shook her head. He wasn't used to pressing her, certainly not Anastasia. They had gotten into a few arguments during their world tour together, but it was normally she who had started it. Kurando knew better then to argue with a princess.

_She isn't a princess anymore_, he thought and, cupping her face, waited for her wide eyes to meet his.

"Kurando!" She tried to shake her head free and, when she found she was completely immobile in his grasp, turned a hot glare onto him. "Let me go!"

Secretly, he was pleased. He would rather have her spitting and raging at him then looking so lost and dead. "I want to know, Anastasia. You _will_ tell me."

"You can't just tell me—" Anastasia started and then suddenly broke off. A sob welled up in her throat and Kurando damned himself to all levels of hell and back for making her cry. All he wanted to do was protect her, cherish her.

"Anastasia, I'm sor—"

But she cut him off by throwing herself against him, her mouth pressed against his neck as she shook with sobs. "Th—they came into our rooms an—and told us to get dressed. The guards. We had the jewels sown in by then and Olga told us to put them on—" she broke off again, but only a moment before continuing.

Kurando quickly silenced whatever apology he might have spoken. Anastasia was telling him. Including him in on the misery and tragedy that had befallen her family. Her words wove him intricately into her story and he would never again be a stranger to it.

So she told him, her voice muffled against his neck. She told him about the basement, the guns, the lies, and the Russian executioner. Her father, her poor father, and her darling, dead sisters, and her brave, doomed mother. She told him about her and Alexei's daring escape and their bloody, sickening battle against the Russian guards.

And when it was done, Kurando was shaking as fiercely as the girl in his arms. But he wasn't trembling in grief, or terror. No. His body moved with rage, with the sudden bone-deep regret that he had _not_ gone back after finding Anastasia and her brother in such a state and avenging them.

On their own accord, his fingers curled in her hair and he drew her face away from his neck. His garnet gaze was locked with her brightly green one and Kurando felt the familiar constriction in his chest.

There was so much he wanted to say to her. So much that he wasn't sure how to say. So he settled for "I'm sorry" and brought her close again.

Anastasia's hands clutched at the fabric across his stomach as she leaned into his embrace. "I didn't want to tell you," she said softly and shook her head to clear her thoughts of her grief. "Because I want it behind me."

"It will be," he assured her, even though he didn't know _when_ that event would occur. But he had already sworn to see her through this. "I needed to know, Anastasia."

"I know," she agreed and pulled back to give him a watery smile.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes," Anastasia said and the way she angled her chin told Kurando—and what a relief it was—that Anastasia was _going_ to be fine. She was determined to be. "Thank you."

Satisfied with that, and with what he had learned, Kurando swept his hand through her tangled locks and eased himself out of the bed. He jolted in surprise and cracked his head loudly on the upper bunk's frame when Anastasia suddenly grabbed his wrist.

The young woman stifled her laugher against her hand before looking him in the eyes. "Stay with me?" she invited, drawing him back down beside him. The smile in her eyes—true and genuine and _thank the gods_—suggested that there was no ulterior motive in her request.

Which was why Kurando intended to protest. He waited a moment for Jutendouji invoke in his mind fevered visions of what exactly 'lying with Anastasia' meant. But there was none and none came a few moments after.

Oddly enough, it was as if the ogre wanted Kurando to stay with Anastasia. Perhaps he—spurred on by Kurando's deep-sated love—had decided those primitive urges would not do for such a night and was content to merely spend it by his 'mate'.

_Mate_. That was a new word and one that had risen up unbidden to Kurando's mind. He knew that Jutendouji felt some claim on Anastasia due to Kurando's affection for the girl, but he had never suspected that the Spirit of the Ogre might see Anastasia as such a binding thing as _mate_.

But, looking into Anastasia's soft and wonderful face, Kurando found it hard to disagree.

"Please?" Anastasia pressed, her lips moving into a recognizable pout that he knew appeared there when she felt she was not about to get her way.

"Very well," he agreed easily and Anastasia's smile broke full bloom across her face. She slid down into her coverlet and made room Kurando. He slid down beside her, feeling awkward at being such close quarters to a female.

Of course, it felt right as well and he suspected it always would when it was Anastasia reclining her head against his shoulder. With a small half-smile he held himself stiff, ready to run if Jutendouji had waited for this moment to send those feverish thoughts to the foreground of his mind.

When none were forthcoming, Kurando slid his arms around Anastasia's shoulders and helped her settle more fully against him. Her hands trailed up his chest and took hold of the fabric of his shirt.

"If I have a bad dream," Anastasia questioned softly, eyes on his in the dark. "Will you wake me up?"

"Of course," he answered and dared to bless a kiss onto her hair. Anastasia nodded to him and nudged his legs with her own, fitting herself more fully against him. Then she stilled and finally found some peace in her mind.

And with no hot thoughts to cloud his mind, Kurando fell asleep as well.

--&--

Anastasia woke to the sensation that she was oddly and intriguingly warm. _What on earth is… _

Kurando gave a small murmur right above her hair and rolled onto his stomach, sliding her under him. His arm was wrapped around her waist and holding her tight against his body, the other working as his living pillow. Their legs had somehow become twined during the night and her fingers had a hold of both his neck and hair.

A heavy blush rose up to stain her cheeks as she was given the wondrous gift of viewing Kurando in the serenity of sleep. His face looked so different as he slumbered, younger and much more peaceful. There was no hint that this was a young man who could wipe out an army if the need called for it.

_His age. He looks his age_, Anastasia thought and pressed a hand to her lips to stop the giggle. Kurando looked like he was merely a young man of twenty-one, not the battle-hardened Harmonixer he was.

She allowed herself the sensation of trailing a hand across his forehead, brushing away his bangs, but quickly recoiled her hand when he mumbled her name, his eyes fluttering briefly before returning to sleep.

It was an odd sensation to be in Kurando's arms and one she was not disappointed in. But she was already embarrassed enough to be in such a compromising position with him that she thought she'd swoon if he woke up.

Biting her lip, she wiggled out of his arms and stood at the edge of the bed, just watching him sleep. He was just so terribly handsome that Anastasia felt the flush rise up at her cheeks. What would anyone think if they had seen her wrapped up so completely in her mind?

Oh, she knew what they would think. Anastasia might have been a princess, but she also had three older sisters, all of whom had reached the marrying age. She was no ivory maiden when it came to sex. She had been well-informed of it since she had hit puberty. By both her sisters and her mother—who felt her daughters should be knowledgeable in all things.

With a half-smile she remembered far-off times when Tatiana would drag her sisters aside and whisper about her latest beau. They would giggle about what it felt like for Tatiana to kiss the young boy and Olga would actually explain to them what 'sex' was, from what she had read in romance novels and learned from her mother. Tatiana would have then fluttered her hair and said it sounded like fun. Anastasia would burst into a pearl of giggles, blushing at the images her older sisters had painted for her.

And, of course, once they became aware of Kurando he was an often talked about subject. Marie had asked if she ever thought about _kissing_ Kurando and what would father think? Olga had wanted to know what his importance in Japan was. Tatiana, of course, had brushed all of them aside and demanded to know if Anastasia was going to make a _move_ on Kurando and if she was she had advice for her younger sister.

_Tatiana_. The reflection on younger and more carefree days made Anastasia's heart thump painfully in her chest. It was so painful to remember Tatiana's careless flirting. Olga's maternally warmth. Marie's wide-eyed innocence. It was an ache that would never, ever go away. Something that would linger on inside her until she died. A deep loss for her family.

But the ache was slighter in her chest. It still hurt and was very real and very hard to handle. But it was duller now. Before it felt like it would rip apart her throat as it struggled to come up passed her lips. Now it seemed to have, at last, settled in her heart. She may never have been free of it—and she doubted a time would come soon when she was—but it was no longer a threat to her life.

That was because those emotions and grief _had_ slipped out, onto Kurando chest. And he had been so kind, cleaning her up when she was done. Now the deep grief was inside her, sleeping quietly in her chest.

Always, always, always she would miss them. Everything they had been. Her sisters. Her parents. And their loss would be ripe in her memory as well, but she knew that she would continue to live on. For herself as much as them.

Still, she wasn't quite ready to face Kurando after she had spent the night in his arms—not doing anything at all.

Quickly, she scooped up her clothes and exited to the bathroom, dressing as hastily as she could to try to be elsewhere when Kurando awoke—_in my bed_, she thought on a flush. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to handle the situation.

Holding her breath, she slipped quietly back into the room, fully dressed. Then, suddenly, she expelled it and blinked. The bed was empty. Kurando was gone.

Anastasia's head jerked around, as if she half-expected Kurando to materialize by her side. But the room was empty. Biting her lip—and wondering where Kurando could have possibly run off to—she slipped out of her cabin.

The salt air was cool on her cheeks and she wiped absently against the mist. She journeyed the boat's deck and was slightly annoyed when she could find no sign of Kurando.

Or, as she thought about it, Alexei.

Very likely they were together, she knew. Since she had come upon them together the day before she had sensed their bond. Of course, Alexei hero-worshipped Kurando and Kurando was always polite to her brother, but Anastasia felt the _real_ connection between them.

All the same, she didn't like being left out of the loop and it had her pouting as she leaned against the railing of the ship.

She couldn't be sure how long she reclined there, her head titled up toward the new sunlight, but she felt herself relax. For the first time in nearly two weeks, she felt at peace. There was still a small, painful cord in her chest but it was quickly overridden by her peacefulness.

That was how Kurando found her. A small smile on her face, head tilted to the early afternoon rays, and back arched. He felt his palms dampen considerably at the sight—both in the need to touch her and embarrassment—and he almost regretted having to break up such a lovely picture.

He coughed and Anastasia blinked herself out of her trance, glancing over at him. A blush came over her cheeks at she looked at him and then quickly looked away. Kurando had his own cheeks stained and he knew that the crispy salt air had nothing to do with it.

"Anastasia?"

With a small laugh, she managed a laugh. "Hello, Kurando," she greeted shyly and motioned him toward her. Cautiously, Kurando stepped to her and joined her in leaning over the railing.

They stood together in silence for a few moments, Anastasia biting her lip and Kurando twiddling his fingers along the railing. Anastasia was so close to him that Kurando could almost feel her body hit rubbing against his and he was tempted to touch her hair or run his fingers down her cheek. He was sorely tempted.

But he didn't. His inbred politeness wouldn't allow him to. He knew he had taken several liberties last night when he had stayed with her. Though nothing he deemed improper had happened between them, he was well aware that Anastasia had been in a state of distaste and might not have known what she was asking when she requested him to remain in her bed throughout the night.

_I should have moved once she feel asleep,_ Kurando thought mournfully. He didn't mourn that fact that he had been able to hold her throughout the night—no, he had rather _enjoyed_ that—but he regretted that Anastasia likely regretted it.

"Kurando—" she began.

"Anastasia—" he said at the same time. There was a pause and an embarrassed shift of feet. Then he offered, like the perfect gentleman, "You go first."

"Oh. Well." She bit down on her lip again, casting her glance back out to see. On the railing, her fingers clenched together. "About last night, Kurando."

He winced because he knew what she was going to say and he couldn't hold any fault in her for it. She had every right to tell him that he had been improper, rude, and ungentlemanly last night and he couldn't—

"I'm sorry," she told him and—because it took a while for those words to penetrate his cranium—he could only stare. Anastasia flushed even deeper, but continued, "First awaking you up, then crying all over you, and then making you… lay with me."

Her words made him flush as well. But only because the term 'lay' made several unbidden thoughts rise up in his mind. And they all made him uncomfortable.

"Anastasia," he said and dared to move an inch closer. She said she was sorry, which meant she didn't regret _his_ actions but _hers_. "I—I wanted to know, remember? I needed to know. I wanted to understand you. I'm glad you told me."

This time he touched two fingers to her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. Anastasia was still flushing prettily but there was a smile on her lips. "I had to, Kurando. I needed to tell you about it and I… I just miss them so much."

She felt like crying all over again and she couldn't believe. She had thought she was done with tears but there they were, burning her throat again. Anastasia shook her head and forced them down.

"I'm here for you," Kurando told her softly and moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulder. "I promise."

Sighing she leaned back into him and willed his warmth into her body. "I was glad when you did. Hold me."

He couldn't stop the smile and pressed it against her hair. "I was too."

Wrapped up into each other's arms, Kurando and Anastasia watched the sun dance across the sea together.

* * *

**Historical Notes**

I'm well aware that Anastasia's **buying a dress** is impossible. However, I didn't want her having to wait around in China for a week or so to have a dress sewn for her. So just pretend they have retail stores there, okay?

**Next Chapter:** first to Kawashima and then to Inugami Village. Then they're home at last…

**reviews**

**Tiger5913:** XD. I suppose that's why Anastasia's one of my favorite characters in the game. So not your average female sub-character… hell, all the women in Shadow Hearts are pretty much anti-stereotype. And thank God for it… I was getting tired of the Woman in Refrigerators syndrome.

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** yes, someone get those kids a livejournal and a Dashboard Confessional CD. :P

**Suzuno Oosugi:** well, they kinda have to, don't they? Kurando, Alexei, and Anastasia are all different people, so they have to deal with it in different ways. Alexei is a child so its easier for him to recover. Anastasia wants to move on so she pushes it to the back of her mind, blocking out the emotions…

**Musical Dragons:** the Bolsheviks were just poor fools who believed communism would work like it did on paper. Lenin was the real bastard. I love the animated Anastasia so much, too, which is weird because I tend to freak out on historical movies that are so inaccurate… oh, you should have seen me when I was watching _Troy_.

**Riana1:** yes, that's one of the things Anastasia has come to term with—or will completely. No matter what she does or who well she adjusts, in the very back of her heart she will always be mourning

**crazycutie2:** yes, I'm glad we can finally get into some actual romance, even though both Kurando and Anastasia already know they're in love with each other.

**AngelicProfile:** That's probably why I love the Romanovs so much. They didn't get a happy ending and well… you _want_ them to have a happy ending. Oddly, when I write romance I like to offset the male character with… you know… very male possessive qualities with a powerful 21st Century woman. The contrast is just too funny!

**DarlingKittystar:** oh, I take all the time in the world for TR. XD I actually have no idea why I love him so much. Maybe it's the fact that he's a trust buster and yet… he never really busted any trusts. Taft did… er… don't listen to me. It's the A.P. History talking. Can't help it.

**LynnSeiza:** oh! You picked up on the lack of Nicolai in the list! Prize for you! No, I purposely left Nicolai out. Okay, because the _real_ Nicolai was just a snarky bastard who wanted revenge for his mother who had been the Tsar's mistress (so can you blame him?). The real evil guy was Astaroth parading around in Nicolai's skin. Personally, and I will always think this, that Nicolai was just a poor guy stuck in a bad situation, a little overrun with rage, and dealing with the fact that whatever was tossed at him it was sure to be the goddamn short end of it.


	7. Homecoming

**Disclaimer:** oh, I wish…

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov

**Disclaimer:** oh! This is the second to last chapter! It is! These last two chapters are totally dedicated to Anastasia and Kurando and their journey to become a working couple, but you can obviously see this isn't going to be fluff. It can't. A number of weeks ago I sat down to start writing a number of chapters involving the cliché romance of these two people. That was when I realized… that would ruin the point of this fanfiction. The romance that I thought about writing between Anastasia and Kurando had already happened. They were already _in_ love. In would be pointless to try to make them do something had already happened nearly two years ago. And, what's more, I came to realize that this story wasn't about the romance of Kurando and Anastasia so much as Anastasia surviving her tragedy and finding a new home, with Kurando.

So, yeah, basically isn't a lot of courtship of between Anastasia and Kurando. They already know what they want—each other. But that doesn't mean I skimmed on the romance. I was just true to the story I had written. Adding sappy romance to these two characters wouldn't have been far to who they were.

Yeesh, that was a rant. Sorry.

* * *

_/Chapter Seven: Homecoming/ _

**"Welcome to my war gone by, I miss it so  
****(She's such a Romanov  
****She's such a Romanov  
****Only a Romanov could be so bourgeoisie)"  
**-"A Thousand Times Tongue and Cheek", A Faith Called Chaos

* * *

They docked three days later in Japan.

Alexei was all smiles when he saw the stretch of land from their ship, pointing the patch to his sister and shooting questions at Kurando about it.

His sister for her part, was busy trying to figure out where she and Kurando were going. After their tender moment on the dock they fell back into a casual friendship. The kind they had had during their adventure with Yuri Hyuga and then during their world tour. Only, of course, it had a much more intimate underlying message.

It was, she supposed, because they were both so inexperienced with relationships. Kurando had spent all his time training for one thing or another and Anastasia had been protected from the opposite sex in that way for most of her life. Even the things her sisters used to whisper to her did little to help with her situation.

The fact that she was too frightened of making the wrong move didn't help either. Every time she thought of doing something drastic, of touching Kurando, she would pull because what if she was reading him wrong? What if his concern for her was merely that of a friend?

After that she would feel ridiculous. Kurando couldn't possibly stop think of her as nothing more than a friend! If so, surely he would have said something about their engagement? He had never spoken to her of it, she knew he acknowledged it and had been informed of their engagement. If his feelings for her had been nothing more than a friend the engagement wouldn't have continued, would it?

But all her doubts and confusion kept her from doing anything on their journey to Japan.

Kurando, for his part, had much of the same problem. He had no problem admitting to himself his feeling for Anastasia. But showing them was another problem. He was a man bound by certain codes of conduct and that rigid ethnic code gave him little leeway in handling his feelings for Anastasia.

Not that, even if he had been so bound, he would know _what_ do with Anastasia.

For the first time, Kurando cursed his inexperience with women.

They landed in the Yokohama and being there, inhaling the sights and scents, was a flash to a different time. A time that, yes, had been tainted with fear and doubt but, perhaps, a time that had been happier.

To Anastasia Yokohama would always be the place where she met the man she would devote herself to for the rest of her life. The same could be said for Kurando, but Yokohama was more than to him. Anastasia was a large part of it, of course, but this was were he had discovered who he was, who he wanted to be. This is where he had the fateful meeting with Blanca.

_Blanca_… a smile crossed Kurando's lips.

"Are we going to explore Yo—Yoko—" Alexei frowned as his native Russian tongue tried to wrap around the intricate Japanese one.

" Yokohama," Anastasia pronounced for him, smiling over at him from her position on Kurando's side.

"Yeah!" Alexei pointed at her for emphasis and then turned to tug on Kurando's long sleeve. "Are we going to explore it?"

"If we had time, I would say yes, but my mother is surely worried about us and she'll… want to know how we fared," Kurando explained down to the boy. "And I want to stop at Mukyo-An to visit my former master."

"Former?"

He nodded to Anastasia, nearly absently. "Master Kawashima told me after I returned to Japan that he had nothing left to teach me. The only way for me to become a better swordsman is merely practice." A half-smile appeared on his lips as he remembers the aging man's words. "But I suspect he had no time for me. He was concerned with gaining a foothold in politics again."

"Oh." Anastasia frowned. Her memories of Naniwa Kawashima were much vaguer than Kurando's. All she remembered was an old man with too much grief for his brittle shoulders. And that made her think of his dead daughter, the one that been the catalyst for Kato's descent into madness. "How is Yoshiko?"

"She's well. I haven't seen her for many months, but Blanca's with her."

"I thought that wolf might be there," Anastasia said fondly and they both shared a small laugh before it faded off.

"Oh!" Alexei cried suddenly, his eyes brimming with memories. "You mean that wolf that followed that Yuri fellow around? He's alright, you mean?"

"Yes," Anastasia told him and grinned over at her brother once more. "He grew very fond of Yoshiko on our journey and I guess he decided to stay with her when our journey was over."

"Let's go see him!" Alexei swung his hand out into the air, crying exuberantly. Then, suddenly, he stopped. "But will we come back here? To Yokohama?"

"The next time we get the chance I'll take you back," Kurando promised the young boy and earned a smile for his words. He glanced over at Anastasia and saw that she, too, was smiling at him.

He was tempted to reach out then and take Anastasia's arm. To just hold her for a moment against his body, to feel her alive and breathing next to his side. He wondered how Anastasia would act if he did such a thing.

But because he didn't know he checked the impulse.

The journey to Mukyo-An took them another two days. Anastasia and Kurando spent their time immersing Alexei in the Japanese culture. Not only did it serve to help Alexei adjust to his new home, but it kept Anastasia and Kurando from thinking too much about their current situation.

But the closer to the Imperial Capital they came, the more memories assaulted Anastasia. She grew quiet with them, thinking back to those days with Yuri Hyuga and the rest. Shopping in Nihonbashi with Joachim, hunting up food with Karin and Gepetto, inspecting the flower shops with Lucia. The memories were all so warm and found, despite their stain of darkness.

And she missed them all so terribly.

"Are you alright, 'Natsya?" Alexei asked, noticing the look in Anastasia's eyes. Far away and sad. Just like those awful weeks in the Ipatiev House.

"Yes," Anastasia answered automatically, barely hearing the words. Blinking, she glanced at her brother and smiled. "Yes, I am. I was thinking about our friends." She slid her gaze over to Kurando and met his eyes. "I miss them."

"Me, too," Kurando answered honestly and his eyes were so intense that Anastasia had to look away, fighting down the blush that demanded a place on her cheeks.

She wished he would do something. Make a move.

Unable to stop herself, she curled her fingers together and took a steadying breath. When she looked back at Kurando he had already looked away.

Mukyo-An was just as she remembered it. Peaceful, quiet, and exclusive. Nothing more than a beautiful house surrounded by an array of wildflowers and gently babbling streams. It conjured up a save haven to one's mind, doe and baby animals playing safely behind its tall, wooden walls.

"Wow," Alexei breathed, running one hand along the wooden fence of Mukyo-An. "Do all the Japanese live like this?"

Anastasia couldn't stop the smile. Alexei had seen nothing of the poor in Japan, only the peaceful, serene landscape of the countryside. Japan was certainly different from Russia. The only sign of wealth was that of the aristocrat and they showed it by living in palaces. Alexei saw regular houses and regular people and he couldn't help but wonder if everyone in Japan was fortunate.

"No, but it's a lovely place." She ran a finger down his cheek. "You'll like it here." She sincerely hoped so, this was the only place left for them.

They arrived in Mukyo-An without much ceremony. Anastasia wondered if Kurando had sent word of their arrival to Kawashima. But she didn't question him on it. Kurando was always prepared and she always trusted his judgment.

Kurando led them into the small, charming house of Naniwa Kawashima. Alexei barreled in first, his eyes bright and wide at the sight of the beautiful, crystalline pools of water and the green, healthy foliage blooming along the house.

With a kind smile to her brother, Anastasia took his hand. Alexei sent her a look—one that suggested he now thought himself as too old to hold his sister's hand—but only gave a small tug for freedom.

Suddenly there was bark.

"Oh, Blanca!" Anastasia cried in joy, dropping Alexei's hand and rushing forward. The mass of white fur and dark eyes seemed just as eager to reunite with her and four, powerful paws took the wolf right to Anastasia.

"Did you miss me?" she demanded as she settled herself on her knees beside the wolf. Blanca inclined his head to one say as if to answer and Anastasia wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug.

"Blanca?" Alexei asked, tentatively coming to stand beside his sister. "Do you remember me?"

The wolf left Anastasia's side and sniffed Alexei's outstretched palm before running his red, wet tongue along the skin. Alexei gave a small laugh of happiness as he drew back his hand to wipe on his pants.

She only winced slightly.

"Blanca? Why'd you run off?" a came a new voice, light and airy, and Blanca tilted his head towards it. It was a merry look in those dark eyes, one of pure happiness. If the voice didn't give it away, Blanca's look would have.

Yoshiko Kawashima, barely eleven, came racing along the side of the house, her young, wholesome face locked in a grin of mischievous happiness as she called out for the wolf who had become her companion.

"Oh!" Yoshiko cried as she came to a halt, a smile blooming across her lips. "Kurando! A—and Lady Anastasia! We heard awful things about Russia."

"Princess," Kurando greeted in his customary stiffness. "The Russian government has overthrown Anastasia and her family. Princess Anastasia and her brother, the Prince Alexei, are the only survivors of the Romanov family."

"That's horrible!" Yoshiko's own eyes started to water for her own background resembled something akin to that of the Romanovs. "Oh… Lady Anastasia."

"It's just Anastasia now," was her instant reply, trying not to notice the sudden tightening of her chest. Alexei looked up at her and then back down at the pretty, dark-haired Japanese girl.

"Would you go fetch the Master?" Kurando asked politely, his face void of all foreseeable emotion.

"Sure! Stay with them, Blanca." Yoshiko turned on her heel and skirted around the house once more, her voice already ringing for her surrogate father.

"Are you alright?" was the first thing out of Kurando's mouth once the tiny, former Princess had disappeared round the house. His face wasn't emotionless now. It was tight with concern.

"Sis?" Alexei pressed, tugging at her sleeve.

Anastasia managed a bright carefree smile and flicked her long braid of auburn hair behind her back. "Of course!"

Whatever Kurando was going to say next was quickly cut off as Naniwa Kawashima appeared with Yoshiko at his side. Kurando once more slipped back into his mask of formality and stood at attention to his master.

Kawashima greeted his former pupil with a slight nod, his keen, knowing eyes on Anastasia and Alexei. "Lady Anastasia, I'm pleased to see you safe and well. And this is the little prince Alexei?"

"I'm not little," Alexei grumbled under his breath and glared up at his sister as she nudged him with her elbow.

"Certainly not, though I was led to believe so," Kawashima agreed and sent Alexei a kind, if tired, smile. "I heard that the Tsarevich was a small boy, and sickly as well. You look about as healthy as my Yoshiko."

The sunny child in question beamed at the prince, who was a number of inches taller than her, and Alexei flushed a little bit with pleasure. His confidence built up and his slid his hand away from Anastasia.

"I'm thirteen," he said proudly. "A man."

"Indeed," Kawashima said and turned to Kurando. "Are you taking them to Inagumi Village?"

"Yes. I'm sure the Bolsheviks know that Anastasia and Alexei survived and I want them well protect."

"If you hadn't, I would have suggested it. Of course, my home is always open to you, Lady Anastasia, Lord Alexei." Kawashima motioned to the small, wooden porch in front of his home. "Would you care to sit and talk with me for a while? Lord Alexei, would you like to play with Yoshiko and Blanca?"

"Well—" Alexei began, well aware that this was the same line his father and mother would use when they wanted to have 'adult talks' with his sisters. And though it made his gut tightening painfully with the memory he wasn't about to be tricked in such a way again.

"Go on," Anastasia commanded and gave him a little nudge, her tone of voice suggesting that he would not be able to wiggle his way into the conversation.

"Fine," the former Tsarevich answered, a pout apparent in his voice. Yoshiko giggled at him and motioned for Blanca and Alexei to follow her.

Once the children and the wolf—who was likely with them to make sure they did not wander back—were out of hearing range, Kawashima faced both Anastasia and Kurando.

"How are you, Lady Anastasia?" Much like Kurando had, the mask that kept Kawashima's face cool and aloof slipped and allowed Anastasia to glimpse the true concern he had for her.

"Fine. Honestly." She caught a small frown from Kurando from the corner of her eye. "But, Master Kawashima, do you have any news of Russia?"

"Unfortunately, it seems the country is in turmoil," Kawashima answered solemnly. "A man by the name of Lenin has taken control of the Russian Empire—or, with your family dead, what's left of it—and obviously plans on making a new one in his image."

"And my family? How is Russia handling the news of my family's murder?"

"As far as the Bolsheviks are letting the Russian people know," Kawashima answered grimly, rubbing his chin for a moment. "Is that the Tsar was the only one killed and his family has been evacuated to a safer region."

"That's not true!" Anastasia leaped to her feet, overtaken with rage at such a horrible lie. "They lined us up in the basement and shut us dead! Everyone, everyone in the house. Not just my mother and father and sister. But our doctor and footman and maid, who were innocent! How can they lie about such a thing!? How _dare—_"

"Anastasia," Kurando broke in gently, reaching for her.

"I—I can't," Anastasia sobbed, hopping off the porch and racing away.

For a very long moment, Kawashima and Kurando stared after. Then Kawashima sighed and turned away, his attention once more brought to Kurando.

"I understand just how hard this must be for her," he said softly and Kurando could only manage a small nod as he turned back to his former master.

"It's something I suspect will be always hard for." Kurando frowned and glanced down at the hand he clenched on his folded knee. "But I hope that she will be able to start a new life in Inagumi Village."

"With you?" The corners of Kawashima's lips lifted at Kurando's sudden stonily silence. "I meant no offense, Kurando. Anastasia is a fine woman. I think it's a good match. I merely meant to inquire if that is your true aim."

"It is. Yes."

"Ah." With a small nod, Kawashima looked off into the distance. "I could sense it the moment I first meet her. She was your match. You need that spunk."

Kurando wasn't quite sure what to say. Kawashima and he had never spoken in casual terms, where such conversations would include woman. In this way he was lost, unsure of how to respond to his master.

Chuckling, Kawashima leaned a little on his back. "I do hope, Kurando, that you will never require me to explain to you what goes on between a man and a woman when they wed?"

Flushing now, Kurando shook his head.

"Good." Chuckling lightly, Kawashima called for tea.

--&--

Moonlight was gentle in Mukyo-An. But then, everything was gentle in the small, quiet Eden.

Anastasia sat on the porch she had fled from earlier, looking up at the moon, remembering how her father used to take her to the back gardens of the Winter Palace and whisper to her the stories behind the stars.

Pain wedged in her heart and Anastasia released a sigh.

It hurt too much to think of them. _Mama. Papa. Maria. Tatiana. Olga. I'm so sorry. _

There was a soft shuffle of wooden sandal against wooden floorboards and Anastasia glanced up as Kurando approached, sliding down beside her with honed, silent movements.

"Master Kawashima isn't mad at me, is he?" she asked him, gnawing her lip in slight worry.

Kurando shook his head and smiled kindly over at her. "No. He understands your pain, Anastasia. We all do."

"It just… hurts to think of them," Anastasia admitted weakly, rubbing her temples as if the pain was physical. "All I can remember is the bad."

As gently as he could he took her wrist and rubbed his thumb along its small, tender bone. "In time, Anastasia, the good times will come back to you and you'll remember them that way."

"I hope so," she said quietly, her smile full of water. "I really hope so."

Her sadness troubled him deeply and he couldn't stop himself. He had her in an embrace before either of them could really comprehend what it was he was doing. His arms were wrapped around the small of her back and her hands were caught against his chest. He felt her hiss of breath against his throat and buried his head along the side of her face.

"Kurando?" Anastasia's voice sounded a bit strangled.

A little shaken himself, Kurando drew away. Anastasia eyes were huge and jade in the dark and he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands so he settled for placing them on her shoulders.

"You should rest," he told as calmly as he could manage—which, albeit, wasn't much—but he couldn't keep the husky tone out of his voice. "We won't be staying here for long. My mother will want to see you unharmed."

Bobbing her head, Anastasia stood. Kurando went with her, his hands still holding her. Later Kurando would wonder what on earth had possessed him, but at the moment nothing could stop him from his lowering his head.

Anastasia's breath hissed out between her parted lips again as she stiffened.

He didn't kiss her. He held his lips a hair's inch above hers, allowing his hot breath to fan her quivering lips. His hands were on her shoulders and he could feel her little tremors racing through her body. Her hands clenched involuntarily on his shirt.

"Goodnight, Kurando," she said in a shaky voice, her hands clenching and unclenching against his chest.

"Goodnight, Anastasia." For some odd, uncharacteristic reason his lips curved upward before he drew back and turned. Anastasia stared after him, bewildered, as Kurando strode away.

--&--

They left Mukyo-An the next day, waving a soft goodbye to Kawashima and promising Yoshiko they would come back and visit. Blanca sent Anastasia a long look that reminded the fallen princess of those far away days with Yuri and Karin and the rest.

But she simply lifted a hand and waved the wolf off too.

"What's Inugami Village like?" Alexei demanded the minute they were on the road, the Japanese sun bright and comfortingly warm above their heads.

With a small chuckle, Kurando went into a proud explanation of his beloved village, stopping every so often to allow Alexei to put in more questions. Anastasia was merely content to remain silent and listen to them both talk.

Her heart was eager to reach Inugami Village. There was a burning presence deep in her chest, something that told her she desperately _needed_ to get the secreted village. It was, in all likeliness, had something to do with the fact that Saki Inugami was there, waiting patiently for their arrival.

Things would just fall into place once Anastasia was safely inside Inugami Village, she had to keep telling herself that.

"Are you alright?" Kurando asked and Anastasia managed a nod, glancing over at Alexei to see he had the same concern. It would be a question she would become accustomed to being asked on their three-day journey to Inugami Village.

They walked to the Forest of the Wind. Anastasia didn't complain as she wasn't fond of stuffy compartments. Alexei—bless his heart—didn't either, but took in the sights with the eager eyes of child, running ahead of Anastasia and Kurando's constant, steady pace to touch and take in the amazing sights of the new country.

Secretly, Anastasia worried what would happen to Alexei once the novelty of Japan wore off. Would he yearn for Russia? The home he could never return to?

Often she chose not to think about it.

Camping—something she had done regularly with Yuri and his group back in 1915—became something awkward and entirely new.

Kurando was back to his old, polite self but things were inherently different between them, things they could not ignore. Anastasia was aware of him on levels she had never fathomed before and even she could tell the difference in the way Kurando now held himself around her.

Both of them were walking on eggshells, not quite willing to make the first move and unsure of just what level that move would bring their relationship to. It made Anastasia giddy sometimes, like she would simply jump out of her skin in her anxiety for something to happen between them.

Nothing happened though on their journey to Inugami Village. Or not much. Just simple skin contact that caused flushes. Or little looks passed out in the dark. Close-sitting around the fire as Alexei dozed off.

Just simple, innocent things. Nothing that explained to her just what their relationship was, or what their feelings for each other were.

Well, of course, Anastasia _knew_ what she felt for Kurando. She loved him, or she would not have accepted the Autumn Kimono from Saki. And she assumed that Kurando felt something akin to that affection because he never called off the wedding, but when were they going to _do_ something that finally addressed that matter?

_No matter,_ Anastasia thought to herself as she hugged her Golden Angel to her bosom, _I suppose we'll have all the time we need. I'm not leaving Japan ever again. _

"This is the Forest of the Wind," Kurando explained to a wide-eyed Alexei as they came to the threshold of the thickly populated forest. Like Anastasia, Kurando's Mumeiro had found its way into his hand. The Forest of the Wind may have conjured up peaceful summertime and cool breezes, but monsters lurked deep in its bowls.

"Your village is at the _end_ of it?" Alexei breathed, amazed.

"Yes," he answered and moved into the trees first. Anastasia followed him closely behind, strategically angling her body so her brother—with only a small dagger as a mediocre defense—was protected.

The forest was silent and peaceful, a small wind rustling through its rich leafs. Anastasia relaxed her grip on her Golden Angel, sliding a bit closer to Kurando. Her free hand reached out and took hold of his and Kurando squeezed her hand reassuringly.

There wasn't any cause for alarm in the Forest of the Wind that, Anastasia found. There was not a single sight of the monsters that would have normally darkened its overgrown paths.

That, at least, was something.

After walking for close to an hour, the entrance to Inugami Village came into sight. Sunlight spilled out from the parting trees and blessed the smoothed gravel with its bright rays. Dust danced elegantly in the slivers of light, as if they were celebrating Anastasia and Alexei's arrival.

"This is it?" Alexei demanded, hopping from one foot to another. His eyes were wide and eager, his breath huffing out from his pinked cheeks.

"Welcome to Inugami Village," Kurando gave for an answer and he allowed Alexei to race off ahead, smiling a little at the boy's eagerness. Anastasia stood by his side and an odd feeling of settlement flowed into Kurando's belly, something he would have to think about later.

Then, in the distance, a voice called, "Anastasia! Kurando!"

Recognizing the laughing lit that always tinged the edges of Saki's voice, Anastasia picked up their speed, lifting her skirt in her hands so she could race into the village with Kurando following behind.

Sunlight burst in Anastasia's eyes as her boot crunched into Inugami soil for the first time in two years.

And there was Saki Inugami, standing at the well with Alexei buried in her arms. Alexei himself was squirming in discomfort, his face buried against Saki's chest. His arms were pressed against her side as he tried to free himself.

If Saki noticed Alexei's discomfort, she didn't make note of it. As Anastasia and Kurando approached, she released the young boy with a great burst of her arms and replaced him with Anastasia.

"You're alright," Saki breathed, her arms locking around Anastasia's neck and holding her close. "You're alright." Tears prickled her normally cool and collected eyes and for once, Saki did not care that her aura of an aloof, mysterious widow was ruined.

Something burned deep in Anastasia's chest at the touch. Something that caused her throat to tighten and she pressed herself deeply into Saki's warmth, trying to draw it into her suddenly frigid body.

The arms around her neck tightened as Anastasia shook with a sniffle. Saki's elbows became a shield for Anastasia's eyes as she struggled to hold back her eyes and for that she would be eternally grateful.

"There, there," Saki murmured soothingly, careful so that Alexei and Kurando—who were watching them with concern—couldn't see Anastasia struggling to keep her tears inside her eyes. "You're safe now. I promise."

She had to believe it. She had to cling to it. To the idea that she was finally, finally, safe and home and warm. All Anastasia could do was believe desperately that the world, after twisting and spinning for so long, had at last—_at last_—returned to its normal speed and allowed her to finally gain a normal foothold on the ground.

Saki eased Anastasia out of the circle of her arms as she felt the girl stiffen. Anastasia's eyes were dry and without any inkling of tears, but she could almost swear she felt them burning up Anastasia's chest. It would but something they would need to come to terms with, but not here and not now.

"Come," Saki said with a gentle smile to Anastasia. She motioned to the ancient, stone steps with a large swept of her arm, up toward her house, just as ancient and set at the stone stairs. "I'll show you to your rooms."

As Saki walked away, Alexei slid into her place, his hand holding Anastasia's lightly. It was a bond, a bond of their siblinghood, of their struggles together and it made Anastasia feel impossibly strong. She managed a smile for her young brother, pride blooming like a wildflower in her chest.

Kurando appeared on her right side, a silent sentinel. His presence was just as strong as Alexei and just as strengthening. Heat bloomed not in her stomach or chest, but along her cheeks and she glanced shyly up at him through her lashes. Kurando only sent her a small half-smile before following his mother.

Inugami House had not changed in two years. It was still calming and peaceful, conjuring up those times of happiness and youth. The smell that assaulted Anastasia's nose—a strange mixture of rare flowers—was a welcomed one that was tear-inducing in its familiarity. The carpets were still thick and dark and the walls still made of the rich mahogany.

It seemed that even if the rest of the world changed, Inugami House would always remain as it had always been. Untouched by the outside world, ancient and wise, a host of dreamy voices and long-forgotten dreams.

Alexei's rooms would be on the first floor with Kurando's, a small, comfortable zone with a bed, a desk, and a chair. Alexei didn't mind and it was likely he wouldn't spend much time in his room as it was. Anastasia could already see that Alexei was more than eager to explore the village.

For Anastasia, her room would be on the second floor, with Saki. Her room was considerably larger than Alexei's and Anastasia suspected—with a flush—that it was a room that had once been shared by Saki and her long dead husband. It had an outer chamber and inner, with a thick, warm bed and ornate, decorative furniture.

But her exhaustion quickly outweighed her embarrassment and Anastasia was a sleep before her head hit the pillow.

Sometime later she awoke with a slight headache. Anastasia lifted herself from the pillow she had curled around and rubbed her eyes. Thick clumps of her auburn hair covered her vision, but she was aware of another presence in the room.

"You looked like you could use the sleep," Saki pointed out in her gentle, teasing way. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Thank you, for the room," Anastasia said in a hoarse voice. She coughed once, gagging on backed up saliva and swatted hair from her eyes. "It's lovely."

Those sharp eyes went dreamy. "Yes. I'm afraid I haven't been putting it to any sort of good use these days," Saki mused softly, smiling a secret, sad smile to herself. Then she refocused her attention on Anastasia. "How are you, Ana?"

That broke the dam. Tears leaked from the corners of Anastasia's eyes as she lowered herself back down to her pillow, muffling her sobs on the silk. Heat and pain burned her throat on its way up and she was helpless in the tide she was washed up in.

Her hands curled into fists on the bedspread as she fought for some control of the tears. But she couldn't. She gagged and choked and the salt continued to flow.

The mattress sunk with Saki's added weight. A hand rubbed Anastasia's spine and only made the tears come faster, harder.

"Let it out," Saki advised gently, rubbing Anastasia's back in soothing motions. "You won't find peace until you do."

So Anastasia sobbed and sobbed until her body was completely purged of the tears. She needed that. Needed to be free of all the salt she had stored up in her body in the passed several weeks and this was what she had been waiting for. The chance to cleanse herself of all of it.

When Anastasia fell back into an exhausted sleep, Saki allowed herself to let out her own small sob. She lifted her hand off Anastasia's back and wiped at her own tears, wondering if the time would ever come where she could tell Anastasia that she had born a silent witness to her family's massacre. That she had been there, holding Anastasia's hand through the Sukune Fountain, as Anastasia watched her family die.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. But certainly not now.

She glanced up as the door creaked open to reveal a concerned Kurando, not doubt brought to the room by Anastasia's whimpers of pain. Saki knew that Alexei had fallen into a deep sleep like his sister and that Kurando would only dare to venture into Anastasia's room once he made sure her brother was safe.

"She needed to cry," Saki told him as his eyes fell onto the tear tracks marring Anastasia's pale face. "She had it long in coming."

"I know," was all Kurando answered and Saki lifted herself off the bed so her son could take her place.

With all the tenderness that a single body could hold, Kurando lifted Anastasia into his arms and rubbed his lips along the top of her head. Anastasia's head bunched against his chest and she seemed to draw herself even closer to his warmth.

"I'll protect you," Kurando whispered against Anastasia's wild hair, his eyes closing on the oath. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. I swear, Anastasia."

Something broke in her chest. Her son was a man now and he loved this woman, truly. But even as her mother's heart broke, her woman's heart grew because she had taught this man how to love so utterly and whole. And Anastasia Romanov deserved nothing les that what she was being given.

Saki sent one last look at her son—holding his future bride so tenderly—before she exited the room.

--&--

Three weeks later, Anastasia heard the customary pitter-patter of feet against soil as she left the Sukune Fountain. She spent her early mornings with Saki at the Fountain before she went to immerse herself in the workings of Inugami Village. The people here were so intoned with themselves and the forest that Anastasia had to work tirelessly to try to weave herself into their life.

And she was pleased to say it working.

"Anastasia!" Alexei cried as he scurried down the path, his wild hair darkening and lighting in the patches of shadows he jumped in and out of.

A smile grace Anastasia's lips. A peaceful smile. One that would have never been on them three weeks ago. A smile that she herself she never thought she would give. Not with her family dead.

But her family was here, too.

Her brother raced into her arms and Anastasia's arms encircled him and held him tight. Alexei was such a chameleon that he seemed suited for all things. The normal, Japanese attire Kurando and the other men in the village had outfitted him with seemed so natural on him and it made her smile.

She herself was getting used to the kimono she wore daily now, but Anastasia was aware that a part of her would always yearn for the bodices and skirts of the Western world. But the irritation at not wearing them was something easily pushed from her mind.

"How was Yokohama?" Anastasia wanted to know, ruffling Alexei's shinning hair.

"Great!" Alexei cried exuberantly, jumping from Anastasia's arms to give a happy dance. "I'm so glad Kurando took me back! He's so awesome!"

_Kurando…_ Anastasia's very heart seemed sigh to his name. They were moving forward to. Slowly, to be sure, but moving. Gentle kisses whenever they were along, hand holding in public, beaming smiles, hotter looks.

At least they were moving, even she wished they were move faster. It _still_ felt like she waiting for Kurando to catch up to where she was, ready to take the plunge.

"He has a present for you," Alexei said suddenly, his eyes growing sly. Anastasia frowned at him and considering chastising him, even though he had not done anything to warrant it.

_Yet. He hasn't done anything _yet "Alexei, what are you hiding?" Anastasia demanded.

"Nothing!"

"Alexei!" Anastasia lunged for him, nearly tripping on the train of her kimono. She cursed and swiped at her brother as he danced merrily out of her grip. "You tell me right now. I'm your sister!"

"So?" Alexei asked innocently, his voice the perfect imitation of a saint.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," Anastasia hissed good naturedly and this time caught him by the scruff of his neck. Alexei howled in her grip. "Now listen here, you…"

Suddenly, Kurando appeared on the corner of her eye.

Alexei burst free as Anastasia loosened her grip on him, her eyes growing wide. She took a cautionary step forward, her breath moving shaking from her lips.

"Jeez," Alexei mumbled, shuffling from foot to foot. "He's just _standing_ there. He does that all the time."

But Alexei couldn't get. Not yet. He was too young to understand what had Anastasia's eyes widening and her breath hitching. To him it was merely Kurando standing before Anastasia, like he had done millions of times before.

It was different though. Anastasia could tell. Her hands instinctively went behind her back as nerves danced the tango in her stomach. Kurando stepped toward her, his eyes never leaving her.

Something had changed. She could see it in his eyes. Whatever he felt for her was no longer hidden behind his politeness and chivalry. And what Anastasia saw in his eyes made her burn from toe to head. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as the love she felt for him rushed up to her throat.

"Kurando," she managed, stepping to meet him halfway. They stood before each other for a timeless second in eternity, her looking up and he down.

"Anastasia," he breathed, his voice husky and deep. A shiver worked done Anastasia's spine as he lowered his head. "_Anastasia_."

Their lips met. And even the kiss was different. Before it had been chaste lips brushing lips. But this was different.

Anastasia pushed herself to her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck to gain leverage. Kurando left arm hooking around her waist, hauling her close, while his other hand worked to free her hair of its braid.

She opened her mouth, moaning a little, as Kurando ran his tongue along the seam of her bottom lip. Heat settled warm and liquid in her stomach as she returned the favor and caused him to shiver with sudden strong needs. Anastasia wanted to tell Kurando _don't stop_ but she didn't dare draw her mouth away.

"Ew, gross," Alexei muttered and looked away.

Neither of them could hear him. Lips meet with the experimentation of a first kiss but the timeless love of a marriage. There were no leaders in this dance, just a tender union of tongue and teeth and heat.

And she _knew_. Anastasia knew then what the surprise was.

They broke apart and Kurando ran his finger down her cheek, his garnet gaze shining with all the love she had ever wanted.

"I love you," he told her and changed everything about them for the rest of their living years. He wasn't afraid now, she could see that in his eyes. He was ready for the change, ready to admit what he felt.

Anastasia couldn't be happier. "I love you too," she returned and was blissfully happy to finally be able to say the words.

"Marry me?" he asked softly, leaning down to catch her mouth in another long kiss.

Anastasia's smile broke out like the sun after a hard storm. She wanted to throw her head back and cow with pleasure. Kurando was smiling at her so loving that she wanted to melt in a puddle at his feet. But all she did was smile gentle and bring him closer. She leaned in to him, drawing his mouth back down.

"Okay," she answered just before their lips meet in a much more desperate kiss.

* * *

**Historical Note(s)**

**Yoshiko Kawashima**, historically, is about three years younger than Alexei Romanov. However, Alexei is presented as an seven-year-old boy (when, accurately, he would have been about ten) and Yoshiko is eight. While Yoshiko's age is right, Alexei is completely wrong. I changed his age to the correct year because having a thirteen-year-old boy traveling with Anastasia and Kurando made the story more dramatic, and more historically correct! XD

**reviews**

**MusicalDragons:** XD, I knew that Troy was going to disappoint me so I waited for DVD. It was actually the fact that Orlando Bloom and Brad Pitt were naked that put me to sleep. Erik Bana deserved more screen time than he got. I have a raw, unadulterated hate of all things Brad Pitt and Orlando Bloom.

**Riana1:** hey, if you don't got what love what else have you got?

**Tiger5913:** oh yeah, I just love making Kurando all possessive and slightly under the control of Jutendouji, because you know that what he's _really_ thinking. As for Alexei, I know from experience people who are young physically and emotionally tend to forget about tragedy faster than older people. Of course, once Alexei gets older he's going to have a long path to get over it, but for now he's just forgotten about it. And currently I'm leaning toward a lemon, a deleted scene if you will. But it'll be up at my journal! XD

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** Kurando's such a good guy. How can you resist him?

**crazycutie2:** yes, I love Kurando and he's chivalry! And I thought it was dead!

**Trinity:** for your really long review, here's your really long response! Actually this story didn't take up much research time since I already knew a lot of the Romanov history. Really, all I had to do was go back and check dates and spellings. But, you're right, if I do have a fic that is supposed to be history, I work my tail off researching the damn thing, which is admittedly a hassle, but the perfectionist won't let me stop.

As for _Anastasia_, the animated film, it came as a surprise that I liked it so much, despite knowing just how inaccurate it was. But, then again, the fact that they were making is a animated feature, aimed a young children, I understood why they changed it around so drastically. And it was an engaging, humorous film. And I love Dimitri! XD Not only that but half the children I know only know about Anastasia and her family because they've seen the movie and if the movie is getting young kids involved in history, even if it's mostly inaccurate, that's something.

As for SH:C's Anastasia, I was so pleased with her. A strong, somewhat wild young woman. I play the game over and over again just to get to her introduction. Kurando was another that I liked right off the bat. He was just so calm and collected and indifferent that I couldn't wait to get under his skin. Their whole relationship was something amazing, because Kurando was obviously flustered by her admiration but unwillingly to lose control while Anastasia was so wild and passionate and out there with her feelings. It was such a great contrast. Their interactions, Anastasia always leaping to Kurando's defensive and fawning over him, made me giggle and made me wonder what would happen to them once she got over the novelty of being in love for the first time and they both matured. And she lived, of course.


	8. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** oh dear…

**Teaser:** the year is 1918 and the Romanov family is marked for death. But history can never be sure what exactly happened to Anastasia Romanov.

**Disclaimer:** yes, the epilogue! We're done! And it's less with the angst and more with the near-smut romance! w00t.

Though, honestly? It's near midnight and I'm way too exhausted to get excited about _anything_. Especially when I have a newspaper spread do tomorrow and a acting group to get into gear. I hate myself.

* * *

_/Epilogue/_

**"I'm haunted by a girl whose  
****life's locked away in these pages  
****But through these words she will be free  
****Through these words she will be free"  
**-"I am Anastasia", Sponge

* * *

_Inugami Village. Japan. 1921._

Saki stepped onto the balcony and into the crisp air of Japan in autumn. The moon had just begun to win its daily war with the sun and the gentle slivers of light spilled like milk across the land displaced below the balcony.

"Lady Inugami?" Saki questioned softly, unable to keep a wide smile from covering her mouth.

Anastasia Romanov Inugami turned to face her mother-in-law, her eyes dancing in the pale moonlight. The kimono suited her well, the deep purple bringing out the jade hue of her eyes, and she seemed almost as if she were some aloof, Japanese lady waiting patiently for her husband to return.

But Saki knew that Anastasia's kimono hid the thick, thudding Western boots she would never grow out of. Anastasia had attempted, several years ago, to wiggle herself into one of Saki's sandals but had only succeeded in falling on her face numerous times throughout the day. Anastasia had procured so many bruises on her body, both Saki and her son had forbidden her to attempt to wear them again.

"I'm never going to get used to that," Anastasia attempted, heat staining her cheeks. She turned away quickly, her long auburn hair swinging in its loose ponytail.

That was another thing that would always set Anastasia in a different stock than her fellow villagers. Anastasia rarely twisted her hair up into an elegant style like Saki did daily. Sometimes, the younger woman would manage her curly mane of hair into a braid, but never more than that.

Of course, that was more because of her husband's enjoyment at seeing her hair down than Anastasia's love of the style.

It made Saki smile to remember how those callous hands would gentle as they skimmed through the thick tangles of burnt red, tugging a strand, messaging another. The way Anastasia would laugh and swat, but lean in all the same.

Because Saki's son wasn't here at the moment, she ran her fingers through Anastasia's hair, slipping the small band free. She supposed an updo would ruin the true silky beauty of Anastasia's tresses.

"They should be home tomorrow," Anastasia said softly, a sigh working between her lips. "Kurando and Alexei are always going off to Muyko-An and I always miss them."

"You would have had to return," Saki pointed out gently, her hand moving to touch Anastasia's shoulder. "As soon as you found out you would have had to come back. Kurando would have made you."

A snort exited Anastasia's nostrils as she nodded her head in agreement. "Good thing I caught that flu before I left with them. I hate when Kurando treats me like glass."

"It's because he loves you."

"I know." A wide, full smile appeared on Anastasia's lips as her hand slid down to rub almost absently at her abdomen. "That's why I put up with it."

"How are you feeling?" It was a question that Saki had become accustomed to asking in the past week. And she asked each time with a certain amazement that she had become a worrier.

"Well. No sickness yet." A brief frown appeared on Anastasia's face that told Saki she was remembering Russia and something to do with her family. But Anastasia did not say what the memory was and the frown was fleeting.

Even now, Saki and Kurando were careful with talk of Russia whenever Alexei and Anastasia where within earshot. Not because the two were unable to handle those memories—indeed, it was quite the opposite, the former Russian heirs were impossibly strong—but because there was such grief in their eyes as their minds flashed to a memory of a distant time.

So Russia was never spoken off. Or not in a deep conversation. The war was over and done and Russia had fallen to internal strife. Yes, there was the constant worry of what Lenin—_that crazy fool!_—planned to do.

But that was not something she wanted Anastasia concerning herself with. Both Alexei and Anastasia's home was here, in Japan. Though the pain and destruction had wrecked Anastasia's old life, it hadn't destroyed _her_, and even if her mind sometimes looked back and sighed, Anastasia looked to the future.

"That'll change soon enough. I couldn't walk ten feet without spitting out my stomach when I was heavy with Kurando!" Saki giggled at her own private joke and, even though Anastasia could hardly share the memory, she laughed with her.

"I can't wait until they get back," Anastasia admitted and resumed her watching of the moon. "Imagine Kurando's face when I tell him!"

"If he doesn't faint he's a stronger man than I give him credit for," Saki agreed, her eyes softening. "He seems to be a ball of nerves whenever you happen to get a little over your head."

"Like when I fell into Sukune Fountain?" Anastasia rubbed her lips with the back of her hand, smothering her laughter. "I was afraid he was going to be the thing that killed me when he dragged me out."

It made laughter ripple from Saki's throat, the memory of it. She brushed aside her dark bangs and smiled tenderly down at her daughter-in-law, imaging what the future held for all of them in a series of months. So much would change.

A wind caressed her face and Saki lifted her head to the sky. Though she could hardly see in the darkening hour, she sensed their approaching footsteps. Eager ones, racing across the gravel and up the stones steps to the Inugami House.

"What is it?" Anastasia inquired as she watched Saki's smile drift toward all-knowing. She tilted her head to the side, blinking her jade eyes at her mother-in-law.

"It seems your brother's returned from courting Yoshiko Kawashima." The smile grew wider and more mysterious. "And with him is your husband."

Anastasia's smile broke through the night like a burning beacon of hope. She turned and hurried down the stairs just as the door burst open below them. Alexei's voice floated up, calling for his sister. Kurando was silent, as was his custom, but his presence was just as potent as Alexei's.

For several moments, Saki was content to lean against the railing of the balcony and listen to the wind as it whistled softly in the forest. She sent her secret thanks up to the sky for giving her such a wondrous and growing family.

There was a sound of a door thudding shut and Saki knew Alexei had retired from his busy day. Kurando had taken the boy under his wing not long after their arrival in Inugami Village and Alexei had proven to have a knack for delegation, something his father had sadly lacked.

With soft footsteps, Saki padded to the stairs, halting at the top. Her smile became wistful as she edged her self to the very first step, peeking her head around the corner so she could peer down at Anastasia and Kurando.

Just as she suspected, Kurando and Anastasia were wrapped up in each other. Anastasia was all but swallowed up by Kurando lanky, tall build, but Saki could see the former princess's arms around her son's neck.

Kurando had arched down to capture her mouth firmly, his hands already worked into her auburn hair. His clothes looked rumpled and untidy, as if he had forgone proper rest in exchange for returning himself to his wife earlier.

Which was something Saki suspected as true.

She allowed herself to linger a moment longer, smiling down at the pair of them, before finally turning away to retire. No doubt Kurando and Anastasia would be hurrying up the stairs soon enough and she didn't want to embarrass them both by bumping into them. Also, it was rather awkward to her.

Her son could be so proper that it was frightening. But she supposed that was for the best.

No matter how old he was, Kurando was still Saki's son and she didn't like to think of him as anything but the baby she had given birth to, held on to. Saki knew that the time was coming for her to take the bedroom on the bottom floor—she had only postponed the move thus far because she was at the far end of the hallway while Anastasia's was at the beginning.

It wasn't a light step to make as the moving would be a symbol that Kurando was the full-fledged leader of the Inugami clan—which, in retrospect, he was already. But it was such a difficult task that Saki had held off as long as she could to give Anastasia and Kurando the time they needed to adjust to their suddenly combined lifestyles.

But Kurando was ready. So was Anastasia.

The soft give of the pillow met Saki's pillow as she settled into bed, listening to the quiet noises of her house that had become an intricate part of Saki's life. A smile tugged at the corner's of her plump lips as she willed herself into the arms of sleep.

"Pleasant dreams," she whispered to Anastasia and Kurando as well as her dearly departed husband. "Tomorrow things will change."

Her heart welling with pride and sadness, Saki fell asleep.

--&--

Sometime later—close to the midnight hour—Kurando awoke from his exhausted half-sleep. The room was dark, with only the smallest candle acting as a light, and the shadows created a soothing, calming atmosphere.

Beneath him, Anastasia gave a small, little groan.

"Sorry," he said softly, almost afraid to disturb the silent warmth they had cocooned themselves in.

"I don't mind," Anastasia protested, but Kurando was already rolling onto his back. Anastasia sprawled out against his chest, her head buried at his ribs, her hair acting like a curtain around her lovely face.

"You're tiny, I forget," he apologized, twirling one of her long strands of burnt red hair around his finger.

Anastasia lifted her head, her fingers drawing absent designs on his bare stomach. "I told you, I don't mind." She crawled up his body, her lips seeking his out. Kurando tangled his hand in her hair and held there for a long moment.

He considered flipping her over and beginning it all over again, and the thought brought a pleasant image to his mind, but his body told him he was much too tired to even conceive the notion. He was lucky enough that the last time hadn't killed him.

His wife gave a small laugh and curled against his side, lovingly stroking his side. "You're exhausted. You should've rested at an inn and came home tomorrow."

It gave him a thrill every time Anastasia referred to Inugami Village as home. It was nothing short of a sign that was would not disappear in his arms. Too many things had happened to them both to secure himself with the idea of Anastasia being truly safe just yet. Perhaps in a few more years…

All the same, he kept his ear to the ground when it came to Russia. He was always on the looking out for anyone seeking the Romanov heirs, though he kept the action to himself only—he wanted to keep his mother and Anastasia both content and free of all worried.

Alexei was as informed as Kurando, though the young man had started listening to news of Russia by himself for a year. Then both he and Kurando had crossed each others' paths through their mutual contact meeting and they had decided to listen together. Alexei had just as much stakes in it as Kurando did. The former prince was making a life in Japan and he was pleased to see his sister doing the same and he wanted nothing more than to protected that life.

Besides, Alexei was Kurando's brother and they had been together for nearly three years. Kurando could not think of a man he trusted more and it had seemed foolish of him not to include Alexei—Romanov by blood, and brother to an Inugami and Hyuga's wife.

"I wanted to see you," he mumbled, feeling drossiness take over him. He closed his eyes briefly and fought it back down because he knew that Anastasia was still awake. "But I would have stayed at an inn if Alexei hadn't been so eager to return."

A smile flashed across Anastasia's face as she thought of her beloved brother. "How was the trip to Muyko-An? I'm sorry I missed it."

"I'm just relieved that Alexei didn't ask me anything concerning Yoshiko," Kurando admitted warily, watching as Anastasia continued to grin at him. Inside his head, he added to himself that there had been no news of Russia. The country had been silent, as it had been for almost a year. "I wouldn't have a clue what to tell him."

"My brother can figure out how to court a woman by himself," Anastasia told him proudly, pressing down on his abdomen lightly. "He doesn't need any kind of help… but how is that going? Yoshiko and Alexei?"

"Well, I can only assume." He flushed and looked at the ceiling, pressing Anastasia closer to his side. "I don't exactly hid in the bushes when they're together, Anastasia."

"I would!" she answered on a giggle and pressed a butterfly soft kiss against his taut skin, loving the way his body rocked with laughter. "Alexei and little Yoshiko Kawashima, I would have never thought."

"Me neither," Kurando agreed, his voice growing husky with his tiredness.

As gently as she could, Anastasia lifted herself onto her elbows and leaned over his face, tenderly stroking his cheeks. Kurando smiled dreamily at her, already returning to his half-sleeping state.

He grabbed the wrists she used to caress his face and brought her lips down to his in a tender kiss, lovingly licking her lips and the inside of her mouth. Anastasia sighed and melted against him, sinking deep down into the kiss.

They parted and Kurando rolled against, this time onto his stomach with Anastasia locked underneath his arm. He nuzzled her neck and then turned back into his own pillow.

"Wish I wasn't so tired," he mumbled against the soft cloth, his voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

Anastasia grabbed their coverlet and brought it over their bodies, smiling a secret smile to herself. "Kurando?" she breathed softly, settling the blanket over his shoulders. "Kurando?"

"Hmmm?" her husband managed to murmur, lifting his closed eyes from the pillow to blindly look in her general direction.

"Tomorrow, there's something I need to tell you." She slid a hand softly up to her stomach and cupped the life that grew there. "I think you'll like it."

"Okay. In the morning," Kurando agreed and lowered his head back to the pillow. His breathing became even and deep and, a sign that he was asleep for good, he rolled his head along his shoulders to settle against her neck.

Absently, she stroked his hair. "In the morning," she agreed and closed her eyes to prepare to join him in sleep. She rolled onto her side and Kurando spooned his body against hers, creating a secure, unbreakable barrier of comfort and dedication.

She noticed that his hands instinctively curled against her stomach and she couldn't help but wonder if he would do the same thing once he found out that she carried his child. Anastasia nearly burst in hysterical giggles with her giddiness.

With Kurando's breathing her soothing lullaby, Anastasia fell into sleep willingly, her hands covering his over her stomach, their bodies molded perfectly in the flickering light of the candle.

While around them the world changed and twisted, wars began and ended. Dynasties started and ending. People died and babies were born. Russia became the Soviet Union and then became Russia again. Empires rose and fell with each setting and rise of the sun.

But Kurando and Anastasia—and Alexei and Saki and Inugami Village—would always be constant.

**FIN **

* * *

**Notes:** that fin sign brings both joy and pain to my heart. This story was actually two chapters _longer_ than I originally intended—which usually doesn't happen to me. But there was just so much more this story wanted to be told, so I humored it. XD Yes, my stories often take on life a life of their own and wake a body up in the middle of a night when it should be getting some sleep. Er, anyway, no real chapter notes since the only historical thing I mentioned was Lenin and he had like one line there so he doesn't count. I really, really enjoyed working on this and I was surprised a how easy it all come together, history and all. And I was so pleased to the responses!

As for a lemon (this means _you_, Tiger) trust me, I've decided there's going to be one. I've decided to flex my smut-writing prowess. However, it won't be posted here. It'll be over at my Livejournal. A link will be posted in my profile here when I have it up (which has become next week's mission). I'm also toying with doing a prequel to this. On the courtship of Kurando and Anastasia in the world tour I kept referring to. Haven't decided completely yet. We'll have to see!

**reviews**

**crazycutie2:** aw, thank you. I'm glad you've enjoyed the story and the romance, and even the history!

**Kendra:** can you blame them? Aw, teenager hormones (unfortunately I'm not through with mine yet! XD). Kurando is… _Kurando_ and that's all that needs to be said about that. I'd drool and drool and put his picture right up with my Johnny Depp one. As for your historical questions, Anastasia is also notably small. The height differences between Alexei and Anastasia at that time, I believe, was only a couple of inches. But really all of the Romanovs, with the exception of Alexandra were tiny. Even Nicholas… wait, I did that in _previous_ historical note section. Gah! I get confused. Anyway, yeah, Anastasia wasn't nearly strong enough to carry Alexei around. The links are to some of the best Romanov websites I've found. I would have put a link to the Alexander Palace website, but they have too many dead links to really count.

I'm glad you enjoyed the one sentences, too. I had a lot of fun with them (I'm in love with their open-ended format). And I've played Covenant three times and the original twice. Shadow Hearts is a really hard game. Not hard as in difficult (though it can in spots) but it just seems to take forever to get where one need to go When I finally managed to reach the insane asylum I was determined to beat the game even if it killed my brother, who is partner in game playing crime. And it nearly did. Not sure what happens to Zhuzhen since he's in China and we don't go to China in Covenant. Keith is a lottery member in bat form and Margarete is at the end of the correctly played trading game (took me two tries to get it right). My first time through Shadow Hearts I made sure I got the good ending and got a rewarding, warm feeling with the huggy-huggy. _Then_ I went back and got the bad ending and was really upset and hated myself for spending four days getting an ending that made me sad. That's the closest a game ever game to making me cry. And that's a lot. A don't cry, ever. Okay, I cried in_ West Side Story_ when Tony died. That's it.

I'm glad you picked up on the very subtle Yoshiko/Alexei hints I put out there. I'm not planning on a sequel (note: _I'm_ not… :D) but I wanted to give Alexei a bright future. So he gets a girl. And if the ending makes you blush, head the lemon. I can get down right… _descriptive_ at times. Don't worry though. It's tasteful. Er… you, like the romance novels we all read but say we don't.

**Tiger5913:** well, happy belated birthday! I meant that showing a courtship between Kurando and Anastasia would be unnecessary. Like humorous stuttering, wacky hijacks, and silly shenanigans such things call for. Romance and fluff weighed down with angst was what this story needed. XD

**Trinity:** then I shall take this as a _good_ sign. Oh, I've been waiting for that. I had a whole "to smooch or not to smooch" soliloquy all prepared for them and then what "what the hell" and proceeded to make them make out. I like to end stories on a semi happy note, I'd see Kurando and Anastasia getting married. I'm old fashioned like that. Let the warm and fuzzy take over!

Wow, did I make the subtle hints of Yoshiko/Alexei not so subtle? I wanted that to be a pleasant surprise… oh well! Yay you! You called it! And yes, one can never have too much fluff/romance/love/lust/lemons/smut. But more with the smut. It's not illegal for me now. I look forward to the stalking (though don't they prefer the term "extreme escort service-people" now? And yes, Alexei is a chameleon. I like the fact that he can come off as his age, but at the same time so _beyond_ the usual scope of his peers. "Ew gross" was fun because I'm like "every little kid would say that!" and it was perfect to show that he was still, at his heart, Alexei Romanov. And I'm sure now that Alexei has changed his mind about kissing Anastasia could rib him terribly about it. But she won't, of course. She's a _bigger_ person than that (or she's too busy making out with Kurando, whatever.)

Yes, Anastasia needed a few good emotional breakdowns to get herself together. Luckily, Kurando's there for her (the big lug!). Hoping for a man like Kurando makes me feel cynical because there's no way anyone's like that ever! And that's said. Oh, yes, Anastasia's counting her blessing. She's _counting_ them all. (I have no idea how that is a sexual innuendo, but it is). Saki is just made of awesome and she makes me laugh with her being he "beautiful mysterious widow" self. And I image Blanca just getting put out with all the romance going on. He'd just shake his head, whimper, and try to get Yoshiko's attention back. But it happen to catch Yoshiko and Alexei doing something _naughty_ well… there'd be blood. Lots of it. But that's only assume that he's shacked up with Eleanor by now and knows what _naughty_ means. I don't think he did really in the game.

Long chapters are my way of saying: "sorry for skipping days/weeks/months for an update!" Glad you liked it!

**Riana1:** thank you. This story truly is, at it's core, a story about grief and loss and light at the end of the tunnel. Which was _Shadow Hearts_ was really all about.

**IchikoKitsuneKoumori:** aw, young, confused nearly engaged love. You remember, don't you? …yeah, me too. And don't worry Alexei knows when to run away… I think he does… wait, how old is he again?

**Cody the Impaler:** I'm really enjoying our conversations (and I promise to find some way to review next week because everything is going to slow down next week) and thank you for helping me with historical accuracy. It's something that's important to me. And I'll let you know that I'm eagerly waiting.

**Lady Nessa Fefalas:** I'm a romance lover at heart and I love writing happily ever afters… yet, angst is differently what I'm best out. Weird? Yes. I can't image reading for five hours straight on a computer. My eyes get tired after one. I need constant breaks and food. But that could be the procrastination talking.

Thanks. I usually tend to flower up my words a little two much (and I can't tell which of the two style of writings I like best; more in-your-face writing or this kind). And, though some historical "liberties" have been taken, I did try to make this as cannon as I could. Lengthy chapters, though they take longer to write and post, just seem better for me all around. I just feel accomplished and energized when I finish one.

I was worried a little bit back dragging, mostly because so much had to happen and in all had to happen in a very small space of time. But, thankfully, I had the Anastasia/Alexei angle to spice it up. Thank for the patience and the kudos. Anastasia/Kurando is one of my OTPs and I'm glad so many people out there enjoy the two of them like I do. I'm truly glad you enjoyed it!


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